Nobody is Heartless
by OstelanExcruciasm
Summary: Roxas is put through a harrowing experiment that not only takes a toll on him, but begins to affect his comrades in ways that nobody could have predicted. Seeds of doubt are planted within their ranks as everyone in Organization XIII begins to question their purpose for being. Note: This story contains mpreg, but is NOT a traditional mpreg story.
1. In One Piece

Welcome to my very first story! This story does contain mpreg, but it is not a traditional mpreg story. There is no sex or romance involved in the pregnancy process. This is not a family/parenting fluff story. This is an angst-filled drama, and the mpreg plot is merely the catalyst that sets everything in motion. This story means the world to me and I'd be thrilled to hear what you think of it. I hope that you will enjoy it just as much as I do!

* * *

_Go on! You just keep running, but I'll always be there to bring you back!_

"Good morning, Comrades. I have excellent news." Xemnas' deep voice boomed authoritatively through the chamber, echoing off the tall white walls. Twelve of thirteen seats were occupied by a sleepy-looking Nobody in a hooded black coat, each of them listening intently to Xemnas, who sat high above them all.

"We must all congratulate Axel for his diligent efforts, for it is thanks to his perseverance that our number XIII has been returned to us. Roxas was retrieved from the simulated town just yesterday, and he is currently under observation. All is well, my friends."

Xemnas gestured toward Axel, who instead of accepting his boss' recognition, stared at the floor, arms crossed, trying to block out the sounds of the "well done's" and the "way to go's." The last thing he wanted in this moment was to be applauded. He waited, tensely, for anyone else in the room to change the subject. Unfortunately, he did not exactly get his wish.

"It seems Axel is fatigued from such an accomplishment. I'll see to it that he gets an appropriate rest period."

Saïx's sinister voice sent a chill down Axel's spine. As expected, his words lacked any genuine concern for a fellow comrade. Axel could not resist looking up and glaring back at him, only to be met with the same cold expression the man had worn for the past several years.

"Why, thank you Saïx. What a _gracious_ and _thoughtful _gesture." His response dripped with sarcasm and thinly-veiled contempt. Saïx was, as usual, unfazed by Axel's predictably sour mood.

Xemnas, thankfully, directed attention away from the two of them, addressing the Organization's team of more scientifically-inclined members.

"Vexen, Zexion, what is the boy's condition?"

Vexen cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Well, physically, he is stable. I understand that he put up a bit of a fight, sustaining some minor injuries…"

Axel winced as he heard these words, hanging his head. Zexion continued as Vexen's explanation trailed off. He spoke with a clinical tone, sounding flat and emotionless. "Mentally, there are some.. complications. When they took him from us, they stole a significant portion of his memories in order to restore Sora. He was able to get some of them back, but certainly not all of them."

Xemnas listened patiently, contemplating. Zexion continued with his analysis, "His mind is currently at work repairing the broken connections. When he is ready, he should awaken, but with a very incomplete memory, full of gaps and holes."

There was silence in the room again. Axel remained still as stone, absentmindedly examining the floor. He could hardly listen as his colleagues nonchalantly discussed his friend's condition as though he were a damaged machine.

"What will be his condition when he awakens?" Saïx's question broke the uncomfortable silence. Vexen hesitated before answering.

"He will be.. functional, but…" His voice trailed off again as he struggled to find the appropriate words. Zexion stepped in and took over the explanation.

"He may not remember any of us, or himself. He may not remember his time with the Organization at all. He could potentially awaken as a blank slate."

There was a shift in the air as the members all processed the information. Axel stroked his chin in thought, attempting to mask his reactions to all of this unpleasant news. "Maybe we can get his stolen memories back?"

"He certainly would be more useful to us intact…" Saïx chimed in with a slightly inquisitive tone.

"Interesting…" Xemnas pondered for a moment before addressing the scientists, "Vexen, Zexion, I would like you to explore our options. Continue your research into restoring Roxas to his former state. Axel, well done. Your skill and cunning has brought Roxas home. The Organization recognizes your excellent work."

Xemnas smiled and gestured to the room at large, "Dismissed."

One by one, each member vanished into their own corridors of darkness, leaving only Axel and Saïx behind. Axel glared menacingly at his comrade, daring him to speak. Saïx only stared back at him with the same dead eyes, then disappeared in a black portal as the others did.

Axel, alone in the chamber, stared contemplatively into space, lost in thought. His mind replayed the images from yesterday over and over. He rubbed his temples in exasperation, fighting the noise in his head, suppressing the tormenting illusions of guilt and sadness that tried to fool him. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he summoned a dark corridor and sank into the nothingness inside.

* * *

Zexion strolled into the lab to find Vexen hard at work, deeply focused on his computer monitor. His eyes were practically glued to the screen, wide and unblinking as numbers and diagrams scrolled by. He did not react to his assistant's arrival, likely not having even noticed that Zexion had entered.

"Good morning, Vexen."

Vexen jumped at the sound, startled. "I didn't hear you come in. Have you got the report on Roxas?"

"Right here. No change."

He handed Vexen the electronic notepad he always carried with him, peering over his shoulder at the nearby screen while Vexen poured over the data. "What's this you're working on?"

Vexen glanced briefly at the monitor before returning his attention to the notepad. "It's the schematics for my latest replica design. This will be the perfect opportunity to test my new model."

"The implantation model? You've finished it?"

"Yes, I've perfected it at last. All the flaws from my past models should be completely absent in this one."

Zexion stroked his chin as he scanned the information, intrigued by Vexen's findings. Vexen's previous replicas were perfect copies of their targets — almost too perfect. It was that perfection that ultimately led to their failure, requiring most of them to be destroyed. Zexion could not help but be curious about how Vexen had managed to correct such grievous malfunctions.

Vexen had stepped over to another console and was copying down the information from Zexion's report when his young assistant offered his perspective on the matter.

"Vexen… there's no guarantee that—"

"I'm aware of that. But we've managed to bring him into the zone of 'statistically likely.' I have high hopes."

"Don't you think he'll be a bit weak for such a procedure?"

"It shouldn't be a burden to him. It's designed to be non-intrusive."

Zexion, out of counters for Vexen's arguments, returned to studying the data on the monitor. The results were indeed promising, and he found himself feeling relieved of some of his doubts about Vexen's proposed experiment, but he could not quite cast off all of his apprehension over who would be involved. His thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of the notepad on the desk. Zexion looked up to find Vexen making his way toward the door.

"Saïx wanted to see me. Could you finish this?"

"Of course. I'll take care of it."

"Thank you, Zexion. I'll be back later."

As Vexen left the room, Zexion moved to the console where he'd been working and resumed the data transfer. He worked in silence for a long while, accompanied only by the soft hum of the machines. Unexpectedly, he heard footsteps approaching, looking up to see if Vexen had returned already. His surprise dissipated when he saw Demyx enter the lab.

"'Morning Zexion! Good to see ya!"

Zexion eyed him with suspicion, already beginning to predict the reason for his presence. "Good morning, Demyx. What can I do for you, today?"

Demyx fidgeted, tugging at the chains on his coat with a sheepish grin. "Well, you see, uh… so I had maybe just one too many last night and…"

Zexion rolled his eyes, having heard this story on more mornings than he could count. "And you want something for the headache."

Demyx dropped his arms, defeated. "Yeah… man I almost fell out of my chair in that meeting. I'm so dizzy…"

Zexion had already crossed to a cabinet on the other side of the room, rummaging through the shelves for a small vial. Upon finding it, he returned to Demyx but did not hand it over right away.

"Demyx, you have a problem."

"Oh come on, I've totally got it under control."

Demyx reached for the potion but Zexion pulled it away again. "That stuff will wreak havoc on your body, and long-term this stuff is no better. You need to lay off."

"Alright alright, _Mom._ I'll take it easy. But for now, I feel like someone is driving a spear into my forehead."

Zexion reluctantly gave up the bottle with a stern look before returning to his work on the data transfer. Demyx didn't leave right away, prompting Zexion to question him some more.

"Something else you need?"

Demyx cleared his throat, stammering and averting his eyes. "What? Oh! Uh… no, sorry. Anyway, thanks for this. Have a good day!"

He hurried out the door, leaving Zexion staring with a puzzled expression. Going back over the encounter, Zexion pondered for a moment what else Demyx would have been hiding, but came to no conclusions. Deciding not to dwell on it, he put it out of his mind. He glanced at the clock, disheartened to find that it was still so early. With a heavy sigh, he turned back to his console, and, absentmindedly watching the numbers scroll down the screen, he plunged himself back into his daily grind with his usual diligence.

* * *

The hours passed by slowly as Axel sat in the chair beside Roxas' bed, fighting his exhaustion, refusing to sleep. Roxas looked so peaceful, oblivious to all the gossip and secrets surrounding him. It was becoming less difficult to look at him as his wounds healed. His broken bones gradually mended, bruises faded, and the burns and lacerations turned to scars. He was looking like his old self again. But there were some injuries that would likely not heal so easily. Axel supposed Roxas might never forgive him for the violence he inflicted on his friend, all to save his own sorry skin. He would be well within his right — Axel wasn't sure he could even forgive himself.

He leaned onto the edge of the bed. The steady rise and fall of Roxas' chest was mesmerizing, nearly lulling him into sleep. He longed for a night's rest, but restfulness had eluded him for several days already, and he saw no end in sight to the nightmare's torments. He laid his head on his wrists, closing his eyes just for a moment.

He was angry. Looking his best friend in the eyes as he begged him to come home, feeling that ache for the time they had spent together, the painful emptiness as he watched him walk away, the powerful sting of having been forgotten… It all hurt so deeply that it seemed to burn him from the inside out. Roxas had abandoned him, casting off even the memories of their friendship. This was no longer just following orders. This was personal.

Rage boiled through his veins and he couldn't control himself. There was a flash of light and flames, the sound of metal meeting metal. Axel threw all of his strength into every attack, every blow laced with bitterness and grief. The scene became a blur of thrashing weapons, sweeping fire, blood and sweat flying in all directions. Out of the chaos shone two eyes, wide with fear, staring from the face of his opponent. All became dark, except for those piercing, terrified eyes.

"Axel! Axel, wake up!"

Axel's head shot up immediately at the sound of another voice in the room. He looked eagerly at Roxas, hopeful that it was he who had called out to him. Just then, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to find Zexion standing there. Axel's body slumped with disappointment and he turned back to Roxas, leaning on his elbows again.

"Axel, you're not doing anyone any favors by sitting here all the time."

Axel sighed, knowing that Zexion was right, yet feeling compelled to stay anyway. "I'm just keeping him company, that's all."

"He doesn't need it, Axel. He needs rest. As do you."

"I'm fine. I have to be here in case he wakes up."

Zexion hesitated before responding. There was no guarantee Roxas would ever wake, and Axel knew that. His compulsive attachment to the boy was both intriguing and puzzling, a rather emotional response for a man with no heart. Zexion chose his words carefully in consideration of Axel's delicate state.

"Axel… you did what was necessary. You brought him home."

Axel remained silent. His case was made with the brutalized appearance of his friend. 'Excessive' did not quite suffice as a description for Axel's actions. Zexion continued when he realized he wasn't going to get a response.

"Forgive me if this is too forward, but it would appear that you are punishing yourself, perhaps to atone for some perceived sin, or to relieve a sense of guilt—"

"Zexion, you are well aware that none of us can feel guilt." Axel interrupted, growing annoyed with Zexion's detached analysis of Axel's psyche.

"Perhaps not, but we all remember what guilt feels like. And sometimes those memories can be so vivid that they can fool us."

Axel sat and pondered for a moment, considering the plausibility of Zexion's conclusion. Perhaps there was something to that constant ache in his chest. Perhaps the nightmares plaguing him were indeed a subconscious punishment inflicted upon him by his own mind. It would be a perfectly believable explanation, if he had a heart.

"You're reading too much into this. I'm just visiting my comatose friend, nothing more."

Zexion continued to tread lightly as he pressed the man further. "Axel… I can give you something to help you sleep."

"I don't want to sleep."

"Why?"

Axel instantly regretted his response, having no desire to explain the nightmares to anyone. He could appreciate Zexion's feigned concern, even though it was simply an official obligation lacking any emotional context, but he resented the scientist's bottomless need to pry.

"Look, I don't need it. I'm fine. Just let me be."

Zexion, sensing that this was a losing battle, reluctantly decided that it was time to let the matter drop. His only weapon was logic, and Axel seemed immune for the time being. His curiosity would have to go unsatisfied for now.

"You know where to find me, Axel."

Axel did not look up, only managing to sigh in response. He listened as the footsteps faded into the distance, and soon he and Roxas were alone again. Several hours passed as Axel, falling in and out of consciousness, watched Roxas sleep. It was nearly dawn before he decided to take Zexion's advice. Defeated, he shuffled out of the room, returning to his own bed.

He collapsed onto the mattress, feeling sleep ready to overtake him as he stared out the window. He reached beneath his pillow, searching for a moment before pulling out a small wooden stick with the word "WINNER" printed on it. He couldn't help but smile as the pleasant memories flooded into his mind. He clutched the stick tightly and closed his eyes. After only a few seconds, he finally drifted off to long-awaited sleep.


	2. At Your Leisure

"_Your mind's made up?"_

"_Why did the Keyblade choose me? I have to know."_

"_You can't turn on the Organization! You get on their bad side and they'll destroy you!"_

"_No one would miss me."_

"_That's not true! I would…"_

Axel was jerked awake by the sound of knocking at his door. Disoriented, he rubbed his eyes, looking around for his alarm clock. He realized he was still holding the WINNER stick and quickly hid it back underneath his pillow.

"Come in."

His door opened, revealing the presence of Demyx, Luxord, and Xigbar. "Knock knock! Hey Axel, you wanna go get stoned with us? Luxord bought some cool new dope from a caterpillar in Wonderland today. We're all gonna go try it out!"

Axel, stretching and scratching his head, struggled to process Demyx's invitation in his half-asleep state. "Did you say 'a caterpillar?'"

Luxord chuckled, "It's a rather unusual story."

"One that'll sound way better if you come downstairs and try this with us," Xigbar chimed in. "Come on, it'll be fun."

Axel reflected for a moment. He found their offer tempting; it was a happy miracle that any of them were still able to feel physical pleasure without hearts, and Luxord's story sounded like it would be intriguing. Axel could admit to himself that he had felt pretty lonely the past few days since his only company was an unconscious Roxas. 'Fun' seemed almost like a foreign concept to him, and he was beginning to miss it.

Axel stood, yawning. "All right, I'll meet you down there. Just got something I gotta do first."

"Going to look in on Roxas again? You know what they say, a watched pot never boils." Luxord advised from behind his cards.

"Yeah, yeah," Axel scoffed. "Look, I'll be right down. Keep my seat warm, okay?"

Demyx played an off-key trill on his sitar as they turned to leave. "Don't keep us waiting!"

"See you there." Axel replied, shaking his head as they took off down the hall. He traipsed over to his mirror, adjusting his sleepy, disheveled appearance. It felt like it had been ages since he had looked at his reflection. His face was pale and his fiery red hair unkempt. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and he seemed to be practically swimming in his coat. Drugs were the last thing his horrendously neglected body needed now, but he could think of no better remedy for his situation than to spend time relaxing with his friends.

Axel quickly gave up on fussing with his looks for now and headed out into the hall. The long walk to Roxas' room seemed to get longer each time he made the trek, giving him just that much more time alone with his intrusive thoughts. Determined not to spoil his relatively decent mood, he picked up the pace, ignoring the taunting whispers in his mind. The eerie silence in the hall was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps. He looked up to see Saïx approaching from Roxas' doorway, appearing to have just finished a conversation with Zexion. The scientist stared in Saïx's direction with an expression Axel couldn't read from so far away, then entered Roxas' room, shaking his head.

"Axel," Saïx called out as he slowly sauntered toward him. "I hope the time off is serving you well."

Axel averted his eyes, hiding his gaunt and sickly appearance from his comrade. It was unlike him to be polite. Saïx halted in front of Axel, eyeing him carefully up and down with a questioning look. "If I might point out," he uttered with false concern for Axel's well-being. "You do not appear rested."

Axel glared at him, crossing his arms, "I'm just having a bad hair day."

Saïx did not react to Axel's deflection. "I will need you back to work soon. I expect you to be functioning at full capacity."

"I appreciate your concern, _sir._"

There was a pause, each man staring daggers into the other's eyes. Finally, Saïx broke the standoff and proceeded onward down the hallway, only turning back briefly to send a thinly veiled warning, "Take care of yourself, Axel."

Axel watched him as he strolled off into the distance, his long black robes flowing behind him. He unconsciously clenched his fist, grinding his teeth until his jaw was sore. He snapped himself back into the present and made for Roxas' room. Zexion was beside the bed, holding one of Roxas' wrists and staring at his timepiece.

Axel approached the bed slowly, peering at Roxas from over Zexion's shoulder. "How is he?"

After several seconds of silence, Zexion placed Roxas' arm carefully back down onto the bed.

"Unchanged for now. But his vitals are improving."

Relief washed over Axel and he sighed heavily. "Well, that's good news, I guess."

"Indeed. It's a promising sign for his recovery." He scribbled a few things on his clipboard before collecting his materials and looking up at Axel's face. He raised an eyebrow as he examined the man. "You, on the other hand—"

"Save it. I slept all day."

Zexion narrowed his eyes, then nodded reluctantly. He pulled a chair next to Roxas' bed and gestured for Axel to take his usual seat before heading to the doorway.

"Wait.. Zexion." Axel called out before he could leave. "Tell me what Saïx wanted. Why was he here?"

Zexion pursed his lips, keeping his back to Axel in order to conceal his anxious expression.

"H-he just wanted an update on Roxas' condition. Official business."

Axel didn't believe him for a second, but had no desire to get him in trouble with Saïx for revealing his true motives. He grunted in acknowledgement of Zexion's answer, and the scientist hurried out of the room. The sound of his quick footsteps gradually faded into the distance as Axel gazed at Roxas' sleeping face. His expression was almost tranquil, as if he were wrapped in the comfort of a pleasant dream. Axel pondered as he watched him. Was Roxas dreaming? Could he dream in this state? What would he dream about?

He took Roxas' hand, announcing his presence to him. He had no idea if Roxas could ever hear him, but he often spoke to him, usually telling him about that day's events. Lately, however, he realized that he didn't have much to tell. He watched Roxas sleep in silence for several minutes as he waited for words to come to him, but they never did.

"Sleep well, buddy." He whispered softly, smiling at his friend. He gave Roxas' hand a gentle squeeze, and perhaps he was hallucinating from lack of sleep, but he could have sworn he felt Roxas squeeze back. He gasped, fixing his stare on his friend, expecting he would open his eyes at any moment. Sadly, that moment did not come. Crestfallen, he let go of Roxas' hand and stood, giving him one last glance before slowly trudging out of the room.

* * *

"Your report, Saïx."

"I spoke with Vexen this morning regarding his new breakthrough with the replica program. He would like to propose an experiment. One that will involve Roxas."

"Interesting… And how is Roxas?"

"I've been to see him. His condition is unchanged. I spoke with Zexion on this matter as well, and he recommends against it."

"Can either of them predict when he will awaken?"

"No, sir. They can't even guarantee that he will wake from this at all."

"I see… What is your opinion of Vexen's experiment?"

"Uncertain. I'm not entirely convinced, given his track record."

"A reasonable apprehension. However, I see no harm in hearing what he has to say. Call a meeting for tomorrow morning. Attendance will be optional, but all thirteen are invited."

"Sir, it is likely that Axel will attend, and he will surely protest on Roxas' behalf."

"Many decisions are made behind closed doors… a dangerous practice which rouses suspicion in the lower rungs. It is important that we present the illusion of transparency in order to maintain our members' trust. Additionally… I like to keep a close eye on any dissidents."

"Understood, sir."

"Dismissed."

* * *

Their eyes fixed on Luxord's hands in amazement as they watched him shuffling his deck of cards with incredible skill. The sounds of music and giggling rang through the air as smoke filled the room. Axel sank deeper into the sofa, staring at the ceiling, enjoying the rhythmic pulsating feeling in his eyeballs. Beside him, Demyx casually leaned his body against him, strumming lazily on his sitar.

Luxord fanned the cards out on the table, instructing Xigbar to choose four of them at random. To their delight, the cards he chose made up all four aces. Axel turned to watch just in time for the finisher: Luxord reached behind Xigbar's ear and pulled a card seemingly out of thin air. He turned the card to his audience, a nine of spades, and addressed his volunteer, "Is this your card?"

Demyx squealed with excitement and Xigbar applauded, chuckling, both impressed by the trick. Luxord bowed his head in acknowledgement, then returned to shuffling his cards. Xigbar leaned back in his seat and listened to Demyx's playing. Axel was staring at the ceiling again, his arm wrapped around Demyx's shoulders. The vibration from the strings on Demyx's sitar seemed to travel from the instrument through his body and into Axel's. Hyper-aware of every sensation, all of them thoroughly pleasurable, Axel finally could relax.

"All right Axel, spill. What's got into you lately?"

Xigbar's voice yanked him from his trance and he paused, searching his brain for the right words. _So much for relaxing…_

"What do you mean?"

"You look so down in the dumps, man! Brooding, avoiding people, it ain't like you."

"Not to mention you look like a plague victim." Demyx slurred, giggling. Axel returned his insult with a playful punch on the shoulder.

"So what's eatin' you? Come on, we're your friends, you can tell us anything!"

Axel, irritated, crossed his arms, sighing at their probing questions. "What is this, an interrogation? There's nothing wrong with me."

"I've known you for a long time, buddy, and you've never looked this busted. Come on, you'll probably feel better if you get it off your chest." Xigbar never dropped his cool and laid-back attitude, making his concerned appeals sound more like casual curiosity.

"I'm fine, Xigbar. I've just been tired, that's all."

"It's Roxas, isn't it?"

Luxord's suggestion sent a hush over the group. Axel kept his head down, refusing to acknowledge the accusation, correct as it was.

"_That's _what's bothering you? Aw, come on, man, he'll be fine! I'm sure he'll open those peepers any day now."

Axel scoffed, returning his gaze to the ceiling. He focused on the sound of Demyx absentmindedly plucking at his sitar. He could play quite well, even intoxicated and with half his attention diverted away to other happenings. The song was slow and melancholic, a drastic shift from Demyx's usual stylistic preferences. Xigbar nudged him with his foot, "Can't you play something a little more.. I don't know.. upbeat? You're bumming me out with that sad music."

Demyx had flipped himself over until he was sitting upside-down on the sofa, his face reddening as all the blood rushed to his head. "Wrong drugs, dude. But call me when you find some uppers!"

"Yeah call me when you can pitch in, ya mooch. I don't get paid enough for that junk."

"We don't get paid at all."

"Exactly," Xigbar responded with a snap, leaning back in his chair and clasping his fingers behind his head. Demyx continued to play, humming along softly as he worked out the arrangement. The piece was quite lovely, with its smooth melody and colorful harmonies. With eyes closed, his playing intensified as the chords modulated toward a climactic break. The sweeping overtones sparkled in the background. The performance shifted from subdued and deliberate to robust and passionate. Axel was surprised by the level of emotion he could convey.

"Jeez, Demyx, are you sick or something? That song doesn't sound like you at all."

"Rude!" Demyx scoffed in mock-offense. "I happen to be an extremely versatile composer."

"Versatile," Axel echoed with a sly grin. "I'll say. I think you're just tripping balls."

"Hey!" Demyx elbowed him jokingly, turning himself right side up again and wobbling a bit from the dizziness. Their giddy laughter was contagious, spreading to Luxord and Xigbar in seconds flat, growing so loud that they didn't hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Such a racket. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Their laughter ceased immediately as they watched Saïx amble in their direction.

"Saïx! What's got you up at this hour?" Xigbar greeted their superior cheerfully, lightening the mood after such a sudden shock to their good spirits.

"I could ask you the same question." His cold eyes scanned the group briefly before landing on Axel and Demyx. "Really, gentlemen, I thought we were above substance abuse."

"Actually, we're right in the middle of substance abuse."

Axel practically applauded Demyx's comeback, stifling a chuckle as he saw Saïx's eyes narrow, unamused.

"You should join us! When's the last time you had some fun?" Axel extended his invitation with a smug expression, gesturing to the open seat on the sofa. Saïx's unblinking smolder burned straight through Axel's corneas.

"I have work to do." Saïx turned to leave, stopping just before reaching the entryway. "I expect all of you to be awake on time in the morning."

"Goodnight, Saïx!" The group called out to him, carefree as ever, as he quickly left the common area. Demyx resumed noodling on his sitar while Luxord dealt himself a hand of solitaire.

"What a wet blanket."

"Seriously, who got sand in his—"

"Now, now, fellas, lets not be impolite." Axel spoke up with a sympathetic tone, hoping to restore the lighthearted atmosphere. "He is the second-in-command, after all. Maybe he's just overworked."

"We could all use a vacation." Xigbar agreed, yawning and stretching his arms high above him.

Axel reflected silently for awhile. True, he always longed for some time off, but finally getting some didn't make him feel any better. He spent every moment of his free time either staring at the motionless Roxas or lying awake in his bed. He felt sick and exhausted all the time, and was constantly fighting off the sharp pains in his chest. It was the opposite of relaxing. The last thing he wanted was more vacation.

"This is vacation enough for me." He professed with a hint of sentimentality. It wasn't much, but spending the evening getting high with his friends made a world of difference. It was nice to feel even just okay for a little while.

Axel reached his arm around Demyx's shoulders and pulled him closer so that he would lean on him again. He never was shy about being affectionate with the other Organization members, especially this particular handful of guys. Except for the more introverted of the bunch, none of the others seemed to mind, and often welcomed and returned the gestures. After all, they only had each other, and the Organization would fall to ruin if they didn't at least attempt to get along. As long as everyone's needs were met, there was peace among their number.

"Gosh Axel, you like my playing that much?"

"The vibration. It feels nice." Axel's speech had slowed considerably as the drugs infiltrated even deeper into his system.

"Pfft, thanks. I spent like twenty years perfecting my craft, only to be outdone by 'vibration.'" Their light banter was interrupted by the sound of snoring, and they all looked over to see Xigbar leaning over the side of his chair, out like a light and with his mouth hanging open. The three of them giggled quietly, covering their mouths and shushing each other so as not to wake him.

"Well, looks like that's it for him." Luxord announced, gathering up his cards.

"Is this the part where we draw on his face?" Demyx asked, eagerly, muting the strings of his instrument with his palm.

"Suppose we ought to call it a night. I think I'll turn in as well." Luxord stood and began to carefully lift Xigbar out of his chair and sling him over his shoulder with little effort. It was easy to forget how strong he was, what with his usual propensity for brains over brawn. He turned and waved at the rest of them as he headed for the entryway. "Goodnight, friends. Until next time."

"See you later, man." Axel and Demyx returned Luxord's courtesy as he stepped into the hall. Axel let his head fall back and his eyes close, feeling a bit sleepy himself. There was silence, as Demyx did not immediately return to playing his sitar.

"Alone, at last." Axel heard him whisper. He opened his eyes to find Demyx staring at him with a familiar expression on his face.

"Something on your mind?"

"Do I really have to say it?"

Axel, smirking, clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back. "Yup."

Demyx groaned with exasperation. "Come on, Axel, you know what I want. And it's so much better high."

Axel chortled at the younger man's desperation, squeezing his shoulder playfully. Demyx was a mediocre lay, but he got the job done. Axel decided to toy with him a bit, just to see how badly the kid wanted it.

"I don't know, man, are you sure? If I remember right, last time you couldn't sit down for a week—"

"Shh! Someone could hear!"

Axel laughed as he watched Demyx turn a shade of pink. He had always been a little prideful of his polished ability to leave a lasting impression. "I'm just concerned for your well-being, Demyx! Wouldn't want you to get hurt…"

"Ugh, never mind." Demyx turned and stood, ready to leave but Axel caught him by the wrist before he could walk away. He rose to his feet, towering over the musician, and strolled alongside him as they made their way toward the main hall. He gave Demyx a frisky smack on the behind as they exited the common area.

"We'd better be quick, before this stuff wears off. But I'll go easy on you this time. Got it memorized?"

They giggled as they took off up the stairs, and after a few moments of frolicsome horseplay, they finally reached their destination and locked themselves in Demyx's room for the night.


	3. Copy and Paste

"_Roxas… are you really sure you don't have a heart?"_

"I thought we had done away with the replica program as a dismal failure."

Vexen cleared his throat and shifted in his seat at Saïx's remark. He stuttered slightly in his rebuttal, "Th-this was just something I'd been working on in my spare time. On a hunch. But when I realized its potential for helping us to reach our goals, I had to make this proposition."

"You're not seriously considering creating another replica? Haven't those creatures caused us enough trouble?" Saïx eyed Zexion as he asked this question, prompting Vexen to glance over at him nervously as well. Zexion made no outward reaction, choosing not to open the can of worms on everyone's mind. It was disturbing enough to entertain the idea of another replica being created after having nearly been killed by one.

Vexen gulped audibly before countering, "Y-yes, I admit my earlier models were flawed, but this will not really be a replica. It will be a lifeless vessel, completely incapable of the same flaws as the previous replicas."

Xemnas waved a hand just as Saïx was preparing to protest. "I am loath to resume the replica program, considering its unfortunate results of late. However, I will allow Vexen to explain his new invention."

Vexen's face lit up with excitement at his boss's approval. He sat frozen for a few seconds, collecting his bearings before beginning his presentation.

"I spent so much time trying to make my vessels more human that I lost sight of their true purpose as vessels. Essentially, I stripped away all of the unnecessary fluff and went back to the basics. I have created a new vessel, with the express purpose of absorbing memories and hearts, nothing more, nothing less. At its most basic level, it is an empty shell with nothing of substance inside, designed to siphon a person's essence and become a perfect copy of them, indistinguishable from the original. It won't even have a human form, so there's no risk of it developing an identity of its own. Furthermore, I intend to implant this vessel inside one of our own, protecting it from influence outside the realm of our own intentions."

There was an immediate hush in the room in response to this surprising new feature. It was only broken when Saïx finally asked the question every member had in their minds, "And who will be the one to carry this vessel?"

Vexen hesitated before giving his answer. "The most compatible candidate… is Roxas."

Every head shot up. Many eyes landed on Vexen, and many more fell to Roxas' empty chair. Axel longed to speak up on his friend's behalf, but his mind swirled with so many questions that he could not separate them into coherent thoughts.

Vexen continued his explanation in a more frantic tone, hoping to quell the anxiety in the room. "If we want to get to Sora, we have to go through Roxas. He's most likely to attract the memories that have gone astray, and could potentially lead us right to the lost heart we seek."

"Why not just put it in a replica? Seems harsh to stick it in the poor kid after what he's been through." Xigbar, lying sideways in his seat and appearing disinterested, surprised the scientist with his interest for the finer details of the experiment.

"If I put it in a replica, it runs the risk of forming memories of its own, while at the same time claiming the memories it absorbs. It will develop its own identity, just like the last one, and the one before it. This new model will not spend any time in human form as a blank slate, and therefore will not have the time to form a sense of self."

Xemnas, casually leaning over the arm of his tall chair, stroked his chin as he listened intently to the presentation. His face was unreadable by everyone in the room, eliciting several nervous shuffles from the eager scientist.

"What happens then?" Saïx posed yet another question in an exasperated tone. "Suppose your new vessel works and it absorbs everything we need. What do you do with it then?"

Vexen casually sat back in his chair, finally able to give Saïx a confident answer. "At that point, we will have the essence of the person we wish to copy, in its entirety. I'll simply take it out and put it into a human replica. Since all the memory fragments will be intact at the time it's implanted, the replica would awaken as a perfect copy of our target, and even though it will begin to form its own memories, it will be incapable of identifying as anyone other than the person we intended to copy."

This grabbed Xemnas' attention. His back straightened and he sat upright, staring earnestly at Vexen. His surprised expression slowly turned to one of curiosity and sinister delight. A small grin formed on his lips, which he quickly masked with an expression of concern.

"Surely this new invention will not be without its risks?"

Vexen turned to Zexion with a nervous look in his eyes. Zexion retained his composure and turned toward Xemnas. "There is of course a risk that it will not work. I'd consider that to be the easiest problem to correct." Axel leaned forward in his chair, ready to protest, but was interrupted by Zexion's continuing explanation. "Roxas' body may reject it, which could be potentially fatal to him. But I would say that outcome is statistically unlikely."

Xemnas frowned at this news, but waited for Zexion to continue his explanation. Zexion resumed without missing a beat. "Because of the nature of this vessel, there is a possibility that it would merge with Roxas. His memories, broken and incomplete as they are, would incorporate with the ones gathered by the vessel, and his heart could be overtaken by the one we're looking for, causing Roxas to take the form of the heart's true owner. We would still have our copy, but we would lose Roxas entirely."

Axel couldn't believe what he was hearing. He could think of no situation where anyone would agree to a procedure with risks such as these, but if Xemnas approved, Roxas would be volunteered without his consent, risking his very existence for an experiment. He was appalled that the Organization would ask any member to sacrifice themselves in this manner. Beyond that, Axel was well aware that once this new copy was created, they'd have no use for Roxas anymore. Either way, Roxas would be lost.

"So if your little experiment works, we lose Roxas. If it doesn't, we lose Roxas. I'm not sure I see the benefits here."

There was yet another pause, prompting Xemnas to speak up once again. "Axel has a fair point. To have such a perfect copy would be an incredible advantage for the Organization, but it would be a shame to lose Roxas and gain nothing in return."

Axel looked incredulously at Xemnas with a gasp, shocked at his agreement. Zexion continued to argue in defense of the experiment, "We do believe the risks are minimal. The statistical probability of any complications is insignificant. If anything goes wrong, it is most likely to happen early enough for us to extract the vessel from Roxas before any permanent damage is done. I predict the most likely of risks he would experience will be some dizziness and disorientation, perhaps some sleep disturbance."

There were several agonizing seconds of suspenseful silence. Xemnas had returned to leaning and stroking his chin. Vexen shifted in his seat once more. Axel sat completely still, arms crossed, fuming. Saïx shot him a look of disapproval. Other Organization members glanced around the room, their gaze consciously avoiding Roxas' chair. Every second felt like a month, heavy with anticipation.

"Vexen, I am intrigued by your presentation. The potential gains for the Organization are enormous, while the potential losses are very little. As soon as Roxas is recovered, I will approve the continuation of this experiment, provided the progress is strictly monitored and thoroughly documented."

Axel could no longer contain himself, "Wait a minute! We're not even going to ask Roxas for his consent?"

Saïx chimed in, irritated by Axel's disruption, "Roxas made the same commitment to the cause that we all made. We are all expected to—"

"I don't think any one of us signed up for sacrificing their very existence! I certainly didn't!"

"We certainly have, Axel. We Nobodies no longer _have _an existence."

Xemnas raised a hand to swiftly end the arguments before turning to Vexen and Zexion. "Roxas is a valued member of the Organization. You will ensure that he is well-informed prior to the initiation of this experiment, sans any _unpleasant_ details. It is important that he understands the benefits of his service to the Organization. See to it that he is made comfortable."

Xemnas kept his hand raised, preventing any interruptions as he turned and addressed the room. "Our original plans will be carried out upon a successful completion of this experiment. I trust that I don't need to explain why no one is to speak of this to Roxas. With his history of defection, it is imperative that his knowledge of the true nature of this experiment be limited. Do not force my hand with any disobedience."

Xemnas lowered his hand, seeming to look every member directly in the eyes at once.

"Dismissed."

* * *

"How could you just sit there and let them do that?!"

Axel, redfaced, had stormed into Roxas' room, knowing he would find Zexion there. He shouted at the man, loud enough to wake anyone else if they were sleeping right beside him as Roxas was. Still, Roxas did not stir, his face never shifting from its neutral state.

Zexion did not look into Axel's eyes as he tried to respond in hushed tones. "Axel, listen to me—"

"No, you listen! They just signed off on a possible death sentence for Roxas and all because you convinced them! How do you sleep at night, Zexion?"

"Axel, if you would just let me—"

"I can't believe you would let Roxas be sacrificed like this!"

"He won't be!" Zexion shouted back, having finally lost his patience. Axel maintained his seething glare, crossing his arms and awaiting the explanation.

"I wouldn't have allowed them to authorize a procedure that would result in the total loss of one of our members. Roxas will be fine, Axel. I know what I'm doing."

Axel, never breaking his fiery gaze, grabbed a chair and plunked it on the floor in front of him, straddling it backwards and leaning in toward the scientist with an impatient expression. Zexion heaved an exasperated sigh and set his electronic notepad on the table before turning back to face him.

"The vessel will collect memories. It will seek out the lost heart, and it might even find it. But I have no reason to believe it will actually merge with him and turn him into somebody else. That tactic might have worked on a replica, it might have worked on some of our other members, but it won't work on Roxas."

"Why? How do you know it won't work?"

Zexion lowered his voice even further, almost whispering. "Because he's Sora's Nobody. Sora has absorbed other hearts before, he's had his memories scrambled, but never transformed into anyone other than Sora."

"Sora has a heart!"

"And are you so sure that Roxas does not?"

The argument was immediately halted at these words. Axel stared at Zexion with disbelief. He had heard some crazy things come out of his mouth, but this suggestion took the cake. How could a man of science possibly make such a ridiculous claim?

"You… you think Roxas has a heart? Are you joking?"

"Roxas is different from the rest of us. I don't think the idea is entirely implausible."

Axel stroked his chin, contemplating this theory of Zexion's. He certainly had a good point; Roxas _was _different from the rest of them. The fact that he possessed his own separate body was proof enough of that. Who could really say that separate body didn't have its own heart? Axel shuddered to think what this could mean if Naminé managed to complete her work on restoring Sora's memory. As they spoke, she was hard at work trying to piece Sora's heart back together, but some of those pieces were inside Roxas. It was why he was kidnapped and stuck in the simulated town in the first place. What would happen to Roxas if they were successful in taking those fragments back?

"Then… what would happen to Roxas? If it merged with him, what would that mean?"

Zexion glanced around the room and at the door before cautiously responding, "I believe Roxas will absorb it, rather than it absorb Roxas."

"So the experiment will fail."

"Precisely. It will appear as if the vessel were faulty in some way. We'll remove it and Vexen will return to the drawing board."

Axel sighed, overwhelmed by the day's events. He dropped his head to his hands, lost for words.

"Axel… I think the experiment will go exactly as Vexen plans. It's going to collect what we need and then we will take it out. Even in this delicate state, I think Roxas' own sense of self and strong will are too powerful to just be overtaken by some memory fragments and a damaged heart."

Axel peeked around his shoulder at Roxas. There was a skip in the pattern of his breaths, prompting Zexion to hurry over and examine him. Axel joined him, watching apprehensively as he pressed one end of a peculiar device to Roxas' chest, listening intently to the other end. Axel felt a strange catch in his own chest and a twisting sensation in his stomach. His brow furrowed as he rubbed his sternum, biting his lip to keep the nausea at bay.

After a few moments of tense silence, Zexion put his device away. "His pulse has elevated. I'm not sure why, but I'd like to keep an eye on it. Do alert me if it happens again. I presume you'll be here for the night?"

Axel nodded, dragging his chair back to his usual resting place and sinking heavily into it. Zexion gathered his equipment and headed for the door. He paused when he reached Axel's position, wanting desperately to say something regarding the man's health of late. It was obvious to anyone that he was noticeably thinner, and the shadows beneath his eyes were poorly concealed. But Axel had been through enough today, and had heard plenty of his clinical lecturing on this topic. Zexion gently laid a hand on his shoulder for a moment before leaving the room.

The steady rise and fall of Roxas' chest had returned to its normal rhythm. As Axel watched him sleep, his mind flooded with memories of sitting on the clock tower with him. He longed to see that face's warm smile once more. He willed those eyes to open and those lips to speak. He missed his friend, and wasn't sure how much longer he could stand the loneliness of his absence. His throat began to feel tight, as if an enormous lump were stuck in it. He sighed, letting his forehead fall onto the mattress, digging his fingertips into the back of his scalp. With his face buried into the mattress, he listened to the sound of Roxas' breathing. He waited to hear another interruption in the pattern, however brief it might be, but he never did. After awhile, he felt his eyelids growing heavy, and quickly drifted off to join his friend in sleep.


	4. A Fresh Start

_You and I both miss someone we care about…_

As he did every morning and evening, Zexion entered Roxas' room to find him just as motionless as ever. Axel was hunched over in his chair, his head and arms resting on the bed, out like a light. _At least he's sleeping… _Zexion thought to himself with relief as he tread quietly through the room with his equipment. He carefully stepped around Axel as he ran his tests and performed his scans and typed his notes. Roxas' physical health continued to improve upon every examination, finally crossing over the barrier between unconsciousness and sleep. As far as he was concerned, Roxas could wake up any moment.

Zexion was deeply focused on his work when he was startled by a knock at the door. Puzzled, he quietly opened it to find Demyx standing there.

"Zexion! Sorry to bother you, I'm looking for Axel—"

Zexion clamped a hand over his mouth, shushing him as he gestured toward Axel's sleeping form. Demyx quickly understood, and Zexion let him go to continue to his work, whispering his query to the musician. "Why are you here?"

Demyx kept his voice to a soft whisper as well, leaning in a little too closely. "Axel wasn't in his room, so I figured I'd look here. The guys are going out and we wanted to invite him. But it looks like he's out cold."

Zexion bent down to ensure that Axel was still asleep, finding his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open. "Yes, and I would rather not wake him. It's not often he gets to sleep these days."

"Poor guy. Well, I'll get out of your hair." Demyx turned to leave but stopped short before he reached the door. "Hey, wait… do you want to come with us? We've got a great spot we go to; good food, good drinks, good music…"

Zexion, caught off-guard by the invitation, paused as he tried to come up with an excuse. It wasn't that he didn't want to go, but that some odd compulsion forced him to decline. This was a common occurrence for Zexion, seeming to always take place in social situations. "Thanks Demyx, but I have work to catch up on."

If Zexion didn't know better, he'd have sworn Demyx appeared genuinely disappointed as his face fell. His recovery was swift, however, and he shrugged as he made his way for the door once again. "Shucks, that's too bad. Well, maybe next time—"

They were soon interrupted by the sound of soft moans. They both glanced to the bed to find both Roxas and Axel just as they left them, having not moved even an inch.

"Crap, did I wake him?"

"Shhh!"

The moaning returned and both men were stunned when they saw where it came from. Roxas was moving, turning his head and flexing his limbs. Zexion grabbed one of his devices and his notepad before hurrying to Roxas' side. He quickly began to examine the boy, taking measurements and furiously typing away as Roxas continued to stir. Demyx, speechless, stared in awe as Roxas' movements became more pronounced, his soft, sleepy moans getting louder as he pulled himself back to consciousness.

"Zexion, look…"

Zexion paused his tests and reports, setting aside his equipment and silently watching Roxas' face as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He couldn't help but smile as he observed the momentous occasion, a sense of relief washing over him as Roxas scanned the room with a disoriented squint. His distant gaze finally rested on Zexion, who could barely contain his excitement. Roxas was awake at last.

"Roxas… Can you see me?"

Roxas nodded with a blank expression, confirming that he could not only see, but could hear and comprehend as well.

"Good! Do you recognize me? Do you know who I am?"

Roxas opened his mouth, but couldn't seem to draw enough breath to speak. He stuttered a few times, wheezing between attempts before Zexion stopped him.

"It's alright. You don't have to talk."

It took some doing, but Roxas managed to utter one word in response to Zexion's question. "Blurry…"

"I see… your eyes are still adjusting. Let's try something else. Do you know where you are?"

Roxas blinked several times, sweeping his eyes all around him, looking tired and lost. "Home…"

"Yes, that's right, you're home. Roxas, do you remember who we are?"

Roxas stared at Zexion's face for a long time, squinting and blinking as he dug through his mind for the answer. Zexion waited patiently, allowing Roxas to think without interruption. Finally, his eyes widened as his vision came into focus and he could match the faces he saw to names in his memories.

"Zexion… Demyx…"

The men smiled again, thrilled to be recognized. Zexion reached for his notepad and resumed typing while Roxas tried to prop himself upright. He quickly fell back down, his arms unable to bear his weight.

"Whoa, Roxas, take it easy. You haven't used your arms in weeks. Your muscles are probably pretty weak right now."

He pulled Roxas up off of his back, careful not to let go until he was certain the boy could sit upright on his own. Roxas took a moment to steady his breaths as he fought off the dizziness from holding up his head for the first time in so long. When the spinning began to subside, Roxas took notice of the figure lying over the side of his bed.

"Roxas… do you know who that is?"

Roxas stared intently for a long time, sensing the familiarity of the fiery red locks, but lacking the pieces to make the connection in his memory. "I can't see his face…"

Zexion, taking a hands-off approach with this aspect of Roxas' recovery, offered him a sensible suggestion, curious to see the result of his little test. "He's asleep. Why don't you wake him up?"

Roxas, hesitant at first, reached toward the unmoving body, nudging the man on the shoulder gently. "Hey… Wake up… Show me your face…"

He prodded the man for several seconds, eventually having to shake him to get his attention. The man began to stir, grumbling and rubbing his eyes. He lifted his head and turned to see who had awakened him as he stretched his cramped limbs. Upon seeing the culprit, he gasped, wide-eyed, nearly falling out of his chair.

"Roxas…! I can't believe it, you're awake!" He slapped his cheeks, pinching himself to confirm he wasn't dreaming. He stopped breathing entirely as he waited for Roxas to say something, having sorely missed the sound of his voice.

"Okay, Roxas. You've seen his face. Now, do you remember who he is?"

Roxas studied the man's appearance for over a minute. He had bright green eyes, purple marks on his cheeks, and his red hair stood tall in all directions. His physical features were familiar, but what seemed to draw Roxas' attention were the things he couldn't see. The man had warmth, somewhere deep inside him. There was a glow about him, visible not to the eyes but to the heart. Roxas could sense their connection, but couldn't seem to locate the information on what that connection was.

Roxas watched as the man's eyes welled up, his face falling into sadness. He found himself deeply troubled by the thought of upsetting him, as if he shared the man's pain. It stung in his chest, and Roxas grew nauseated the more he focused on it.

Out of nowhere, he felt something inside him unlock. Memories flooded in through the newly opened path and into his conscious mind. They swirled like a violent storm, loud and strong. There was a pounding ache in his head, but he refused to close his eyes until he could say this man's name.

In just seconds, the influx of memories ceased and he found what he was searching for. "Axel, why are you crying?"

Axel sprang out of his chair and threw his arms around Roxas, pulling him into a powerful embrace. Roxas, shocked by the gesture, froze momentarily before reciprocating with a confused expression. He could hear Axel fighting back tears as he held him, growing concerned for his friend's well-being. It felt to Roxas as if he had simply gone to sleep, then woke up to find these people in his room, looking surprised to see him alive.

"Axel… what's wrong? What's going on?"

Sniffling and wiping his face, Axel released his hold on Roxas, his voice shaking as he explained the situation. "You've been unconscious for weeks… I missed you so much…"

"Weeks…? But… how? What happened?"

Zexion stepped in to take over the questions and answers in an effort to keep from overwhelming the boy. "The shortest answer is that you were kidnapped and many of your memories were stolen from you. You have been asleep while your mind tried to put the pieces of the puzzle back together."

Roxas stared open-mouthed at the scientist, completely lost by his explanation.

"Tomorrow we will want to ask you some questions about what you can remember, so we can see what pieces are still missing, but for now I want you to rest. I promise, we will explain everything in detail tomorrow."

Axel couldn't stop beaming at Roxas, overjoyed by his awakening. He had no idea how he could possibly feel so happy, but for right now he didn't care. He was elated to have his friend back and even more so when he learned that Roxas' memories of their friendship remained intact.

Zexion gave Roxas a quick medical once-over before clearing him for the night. "You're in good shape for having been unconscious so long. Take it easy tonight. Vexen and I will be back to check on you in the morning."

He collected his instruments and his notepad, heading for the door. "Demyx, I've reconsidered your invitation. Turns out I have no work to do after all."

Delighted, Demyx practically skipped out the door behind him. Alone at last, Axel heaved an enormous sigh and slumped onto the bed again, overcome by the intensity of such an emotional experience. All the pain and sorrow he felt for several weeks, plaguing him even in his sleep, were finally lifted. For fake emotions, Axel was quite surprised by how strong they were, and how real they felt.

"Axel… are you okay?"

Axel finally picked his head up, grinning at his friend while coming down from the high. "Never better."

Roxas smiled back at him with a new appreciation for the warm glow Axel seemed to carry within him. His beaming face could outshine the sun itself. "I've never seen you like this before."

Axel played dumb, slightly embarrassed by his loss of control. "Like what?"

"I saw you crying, but you also look happy."

Axel chortled softly, barely understanding the concept himself. "Well… I guess when we try to mimic the feelings we used to have, maybe we get a little confused."

Roxas laid himself back down, his back having grown tired from sitting upright. He got lost in thought as he contemplated Axel's response. He recalled how just a few moments ago, Axel looked so sad, and Roxas felt sad along with him. Now, seeing Axel so happy, Roxas felt happy too. He wished he could understand this connection they seemed to share, but the more he pondered it, the more tired he began to feel.

As his eyelids began to droop, he reached out and laid his hand on Axel's shoulder. "I'm happy, too."

Axel had laid his head back down on the mattress beside him, and together they surrendered themselves to a deep, peaceful slumber.

* * *

"It seems Roxas is awake."

Xemnas smiled at Saïx's declaration. "What excellent news. What is his condition?"

"Fatigued. Weak, but stable." Saïx gave his report in an uninterested tone, leaning casually on his knees as he spoke to his Superior.

"And his memories?"

"Fragmented, as Zexion predicted. But he seems to remember his time with the Organization. Most of it, anyway."

Xemnas thought for a moment, formulating plans in his mind. "Do we know when he is expected to recover?"

"I'm told he'll be as good as new in a matter of days. The experiment could be performed in as little as a week."

There was another pause as Xemnas organized the information he had. He considered his options for several seconds before making his decision. "Give the boy an appropriate recovery period. Allow him the time to re-acquaint himself with his surroundings. As soon as he is ready, brief him on what will be done. When the procedure is complete, then we can set our plan in motion."

Saïx acknowledged his order with a silent nod before asking a question of his own. "Sir… when the experiment is complete, what will be done with Roxas?"

"If the experiment is a success, and we have our duplicate, then we will have no further use for him. He will be drained of memories, and when the vessel is removed, he will be but an empty husk, indistinguishable from a replica."

Saïx's eyes widened slightly at this unexpected development. It was becoming clear why so much of this information was not volunteered at the initial presentation. "I see."

"Consider the possibilities… Having the power to wipe a person clean, making them into a perfect human vessel. It's much faster than waiting for Vexen to churn out another replica."

"Indeed, it would be very useful if it works."

"You are not confident in Vexen's abilities?"

Saïx chose his words carefully before responding. "Vexen has remarkable ideas, and is a skilled researcher. However, the fruits of his labor have all been spoiled in some fashion. I am confident in his scientific creativity, but not in his execution."

Xemnas chuckled softly in agreement. "I can certainly concede to that."

"That being said, I would like nothing more than for this experiment to be a success. It would be another step toward recompletion for all of us."

"Of course… To rejoin our hearts with our bodies and minds… that is our ultimate goal."

Saïx stared up at his Superior without a word for several seconds. It was fascinating interacting with the man, given their similarities and contrasts. Both emitted pure emotionlessness, but with drastically opposite approaches. Saïx had long since mastered the haunting, blank stare. He considered it a useful skill to make his face unreadable, possessing no more animation than that of a corpse. Xemnas, on the other hand, smiled, laughed, grimaced, and glowered regularly, yet he experienced no more feeling than Saïx did. His emotional displays were obvious performances, perfectly concealing the true nature of his thoughts.

With a sinister grin, Xemnas disappeared into his corridor of darkness. Saïx found himself alone in the round room, contemplating the information he'd just learned. After several moments to his thoughts, he followed suit and left the room in a similar fashion, transporting himself to the Grey Area to wait for the day to begin.


	5. Faith, the Leap

"_I guess the closest thing we Nobodies have got is our past. You know, memories of the stuff we couldn't bear to lose, back when we couldn't bear to lose it."_

Axel slouched lazily, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the clock tower, watching the sunset as he did nearly every day. The sky was bright as a painted canvas, as shades of red, pink, and orange shimmered over the city. The cool breeze blew his hair about, but he was so lost in thought that he didn't flinch even when it fell onto his face.

"Hey, Axel."

Axel jumped at the sound of Roxas' voice, quickly recovering his composure to avoid arousing suspicion. "Hey, Roxas. How are you feeling?"

"Better." Roxas answered as he sat down next to him. He handed him one of the sea salt ice creams he had brought with him. "It feels like forever since I had one of these."

Axel stared at his ice cream, glistening in the light of the sunset. "Yeah… you were asleep for a long time."

They sat in silence for awhile, watching the clouds roll by, neither of them knowing what to say. Roxas studied his ice cream, trying to remember how it tasted, yet having no real appetite. He looked over at Axel to find he hadn't started eating his either, instead just staring into space.

"So… I got a mission briefing today. The mission is supposed to be really important."

Axel turned to his friend, grateful that he initiated some small talk to break the awkward silence.

"Oh? What's the mission?"

Roxas hesitated before responding. "You're going to think it's crazy."

Axel chuckled, "Try me."

Roxas collected his thoughts and took a deep breath. "Well, they're going to put something inside me that's going to help get my memories back."

Axel stared at him, ready to be appalled that this was all Roxas was told about what they were going to do to him. Thankfully, he continued his explanation.

"I guess Vexen created some sort of empty replica. It absorbs memories. So they're going to just stick it in me and it should be able to get back the memories I lost when I got kidnapped."

Roxas stared back at the sunset. He could feel the gaps in his mind, but it was a peculiar sensation to know he'd lost something without knowing exactly what he'd lost.

"There's more… they said that the Organization is looking for some lost heart… a really powerful one that they think is just floating around somewhere. They said this vessel they're putting in me is gonna find it."

"What did they say they'd do with it after it's found?"

Roxas paused, lacking a real answer. "They were sort of vague on that. I didn't think to ask; it was all kind of overwhelming…"

Roxas' sentence trailed off and he stared down at the ground far below them. He watched as tiny people darted this way and that, scurrying around the station plaza. Axel continued staring into space, watching the clouds roll through, their shapes ever-changing. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, having run out of things to say once again. Finally, Roxas spoke up with the question they had both been avoiding.

"Axel… who is Ventus?"

Axel froze, unsure of how to answer him. "Where did you hear that name?"

"I heard Saïx and Xemnas talking."

Axel scratched his head and looked away, feeling that stabbing sensation in his chest come back. He hated lying to Roxas more than anything.

"He was… a very powerful Keyblade wielder. His heart is the one we're looking for."

Roxas thought for a moment. It made sense that the Organization would want more members who could wield a Keyblade, since a Keyblade was the only weapon that could collect hearts. Their previous attempts at making a copy of one ended in disaster. Replicating real people with real hearts and real feelings, but no real freedoms. Then replicating Nobodies, half-people with no hearts and no feelings, but who had found a sense of purpose other than the one laid out for them. As far as Roxas was concerned, they were all tragedies. Real lives were destroyed, and real people were sacrificed for the sake of achieving the Organization's goals. It made him nauseous to know that he was helping them. He should never have agreed to this, but it was the only way that he might get his memories back. Besides, what would Xemnas have done had he refused?

"So… they're looking for Ventus… because he can collect hearts."

Axel didn't look at Roxas at all. "That's right. Two Keyblade wielders are better than one."

They sat in uncomfortable silence, unable to even touch their ice creams. Roxas didn't understand why this topic was so sensitive for Axel, but he needed answers and pressed his friend for them.

"Why was I chosen for this?"

Axel rubbed his chest in a feeble attempt to quell the sharp pains he felt there. "Well… since you're a Keyblade wielder yourself, you were the most compatible candidate. You'd be most likely to find his heart. Besides, don't you want to get your memories back?"

Roxas took a moment to process this response. It was understandable enough, but the explanation was full of holes. He stared intently at Axel, waiting for him to spill the missing information. Axel sighed heavily and turned toward his friend.

"You remember we talked about the replica program before, right? Vexen made a lot of replicas, but they were all broken… so flawed that some of them had to be destroyed. It was a nightmare for all of us."

Axel paused, trying to come up with a suitable explanation for this grievous plot. "Vexen thinks his new, perfected replica design will be safer inside you. Since it's just an empty vessel, it's less likely to fail."

Roxas read Axel's face like a book. "Do you believe that?"

Axel scratched his head and averted his eyes. "I'm not sure what I believe." He spoke softly, masking the sound of worry in his voice. "If he's right, it's a major leap for us toward reaching our ultimate goal. If he's wrong…"

Axel let the sentence trail off, unwilling to even entertain the idea of losing Roxas again.

They sat in silence again, their ice creams melting into their hands. Roxas had been warned of the risks of this procedure, but hadn't considered the possibility of the worst case scenario. He felt a tightness in his throat and a fluttering sensation inside him. He turned to his friend and guessed he was deep in thought as Roxas was. Axel repeatedly clenched his hand into a fist, then released it, occasionally stopping to rub a spot on his chest with a subtle grimace on his face.

"Axel?"

Roxas' voice jolted Axel back into the present. "Hmm?"

"... I'm scared."

Axel turned to meet Roxas' gaze, seeing clearly the fear in his friend's eyes. He would swear he was being impaled through the chest if he didn't know better. His breathing came to a sudden halt, unsure of how to respond. After a couple of seconds, he regained some of his composure and patted Roxas on the back.

"Come on, silly. You know us Nobodies can't feel scared."

Roxas smiled weakly at him, finally deciding to take a bite of his ice cream. The sweet but salty taste instantly caused a rush of memories to spring to the forefront of his mind. In a split second, he re-lived every evening he had spent here with Axel, having ice cream together and laughing. The memories were pleasant and warm. Soon, the images began to fade from view, and holes began to appear. Roxas had the distinct sense that something was missing from these memories but could not place what it was. The holes grew bigger, and his head started to ache as his mind searched for the missing information. He pressed his finger tips to his temples, wincing as he waited for the pressure to go away.

"Roxas? What's the matter? Brain freeze?"

Roxas closed his eyes, willing the spinning to end. His body wavered back and forth until he felt the ground drop from under him. Time seemed to stop. His eyes sprang open but the world was all dark. His breathing halted as he succumbed to the sensation of falling.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of arms grab him out of the air, tightly wrapping around his torso and tossing him backward onto the safety of the clock tower ledge. Light returned to his vision, blurry and foggy, but gradually becoming more clear. He could just barely make out the features on Axel's face, and the bright red color of his hair.

"Roxas! Are you all right?!"

Roxas blinked several times, trying to sharpen the image of his friend's expression hovering over him. "I'm sorry… I guess I just got dizzy."

"You might not be fully recovered yet. We should go back so you can rest."

"Right. Thank you for catching me."

Axel chuckled with relief, "Don't mention it."

He pulled Roxas to his feet and, keeping an arm around him for balance, slowly walked him down the steps and back to the castle. Neither of them spoke during the journey, too lost in their own thoughts to make conversation. Once they had reached Roxas' bedroom door, they bid each other good night and parted ways for the evening.

Axel remained in front of Roxas' closed door for a long time, staring at his reflection on the surface. He pressed his forehead into the cold metal, eyes closed, absentmindedly clenching his fists. He began to feel nauseated again, regretting the ice cream he foolishly put into his empty stomach. He sighed, fogging the surface of the door. He welcomed these few seconds wherein he did not have to look himself in the face. In time, the nausea had passed, and he finally decided to meander off to his own room, hoping he wouldn't see anyone on his way there.

* * *

Axel lost track of the hours as he stood outside the door to the lab, leaned against the wall, trying to keep from falling asleep on his feet. They started the procedure at dawn, and Axel woke up very early just to be here. Roxas was afraid, but had spent most of the trip down trying to calm Axel's nerves. Zexion tried to suggest that Axel wait in the common area and relax, but Axel insisted that he would wait right outside.

He began to wonder why it was taking so long, forcing away the thoughts that something may have happened. He spent the hours switching between pacing the floor and supporting the wall. He was just considering knocking on the door when it finally opened. Zexion walked out, mopping his forehead with a small towel.

"You can see him, now. The procedure was successful."

Axel barely waited for him to finish his sentence before barreling past him and through the doorway. The room had an entire wall dedicated to computer controls and display screens. There were odd-looking pieces of equipment scattered throughout the room. Roxas was lying on a table under bright lights, surrounded by monitors and other devices Axel couldn't identify. His eyes were closed, but fluttering. Axel approached the table cautiously, too nervous to say anything to him. As he drew nearer to him, Roxas began to stir, shifting his limbs and blinking his eyes.

"He's coming around." Zexion had followed Axel into the room, typing into his notepad as he observed the computer displays.

"Excellent. Keep him under observation for the next two hours. I'll be back then to re-evaluate."

Vexen entered from a doorway off to the other side of the room, closely studying a small electronic device he was carrying. He glanced up at Axel as he passed by him. "Ah, good morning, Axel. Zexion, I'm off to deliver the initial report. They'll want the full one tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir."

Vexen grabbed a few materials on his way to the door and left the room. Roxas began to moan softly as he regained consciousness, opening his eyes and scanning the room around him.

"Roxas did quite well. There were no complications with the procedure at all. He should recover very quickly."

Axel heaved a sigh of relief at Zexion's words as he watched Roxas awaken further. Roxas had now opened his eyes all the way, occasionally blinking them into focus. His gaze settled on Axel, and he smiled as he began to recognize him.

"'Morning, Roxas. Sleep well?"

Roxas yawned, squinting as he looked at Axel.

"I suppose so… how did it go? Did it work?"

Zexion, who had been pressing some buttons on the computer panel, returned to the table and began inspecting Roxas. "Yes, it worked." He shined a small light into Roxas' eyes, ears, and mouth. "How do you feel, Roxas? Are you in any pain?" He asked as he patted down Roxas' entire torso.

"No… I feel fine… just tired."

"Good. You shouldn't feel any discomfort. The fatigue should subside in the next day or two."

Axel let himself bask in the warmth of his relief. He felt the same way he did when Roxas woke up, and again when Roxas remembered him. It was refreshing to finally let the storm cloud that seemed to hang over his head for the past several weeks be blown away. Everything seemed to look a little brighter these days, and he could certainly get used to the view.

"You look cheerful, Axel."

Roxas smiled at Axel when he caught him staring. Axel chuckled nervously, scratching his head and averting his eyes.

"Do I? Heh… I guess I just woke up on the right side of the bed today."

Roxas tried to sit up but his arms could not bear his weight. He fell back onto the table, feeling weak and dizzy.

"Whoa, buddy. Don't try to get up just yet. You should rest. Anyway, I have a mission. I'll come visit you when I get done, okay?"

"Okay… I'll see you later, Axel."

"See ya, Roxas."

Axel gave Zexion a wave on his way out of the lab and made his way toward the common area with a spring in his step. Right now, it didn't matter what kind of mind-numbing mission Saïx would give him — nothing could kill this good mood today.

"Looks like someone had his coffee this morning."

Right on cue, the sound of Saïx's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. Axel swiveled around to see him meandering casually in his direction, clearly having nothing better to do than bother him.

"Saïx! Hello! Have you come to ruin my day?"

"I make it a point not to ruin anyone's day before noon."

"How considerate of you. So, did you need something from me?"

Saïx stole a glance at the lab door, "How is Roxas?"

Axel squinted at him suspiciously as he answered. "He's fine. Didn't Vexen give you a report?"

"Yes. A lengthy description of the procedure without one detail missed, followed by a clinical rundown of design specifications. May as well have been gibberish. He didn't include any information on Roxas' physical health. At least not in any language I can understand."

Axel crossed his arms, still eyeing Saïx with a skeptical glare. "He's awake and talking. He's not sickly and he's not in pain."

Saïx's stone face didn't shift at all, as if he didn't even hear Axel's update. He acknowledged him in his usual flat tone. "That's good to hear."

Axel would have liked to question him on why he cared about Roxas' condition, but it was more important that he get his mission done quickly so he could come back and visit his friend. He'd have to pick Saïx's brain later.

"Anyway, where are you sending me today?"

"Agrabah. Supposedly, there is another sandstorm on its way. I want you to do a preliminary survey of its magnitude and trajectory. Clear out any Heartless you see while you're at it."

"You got it, Sir. I'll get my sunscreen."

"And take Demyx with you. Give him something to do other than keeping the sofa warm."

"Sunscreen _and _ear plugs. Got it."

"Proceed at your convenience."


	6. Forgive and Forget

Axel dragged himself down the long corridor, yawning and stretching his arms. One of these days, he was certain he would just fall asleep during a mission if this terrible insomnia kept up. He could manage a few hours each night ever since Roxas woke up, but those hours were usually restless and plagued by nightmares. Most of the time he found himself lying awake, fighting the painful memories that swirled through his mind — images that followed him even in sleep.

It had been a few weeks since Roxas had Vexen's new replica implanted inside of him. His days since then were largely uneventful, but Axel continued to worry about his friend. Every time he looked at Roxas he was bombarded with the same troubling thoughts. The sight of his scars triggered a strange squeezing sensation in his lungs, and he often found he simply couldn't look at the boy at all. As he approached Roxas' door, he rubbed his chest absentmindedly, nursing a familiar throbbing pain he felt there.

He knocked lightly, dreading the impending encounter. He listened closely but heard no response. He knocked a second time. Again, there was no answer. Concerned, he entered, slipping into his more carefree persona before calling out for his friend.

"Roxas! You awake? Saïx said if you were feeling up to it, you could come with me on my mission, so I came to check on—"

Axel abruptly cut off his greeting when he heard the sound of retching from Roxas' bathroom. He stood still, battling with himself over whether he should leave Roxas to his personal business or go inside to make sure he was okay. He decided on the latter, quickly making for the door and knocking again.

"Roxas? It's Axel. Are you all right?"

Roxas did not answer. Axel guessed that he couldn't, considering the sounds of his retching hadn't paused. He was just beginning to consider leaving the poor kid alone when the door opened. Roxas stood in the doorway, covered in sweat, his skin pale as the walls of his room. He appeared to lose his balance as his knees weakened momentarily. Axel caught him before he fell, staring at him with a wary expression.

"Uh… I came to check on you. You don't look so good, man."

Roxas slowly shuffled out of the bathroom, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. "I'm fine… what was it you said about a mission?"

Axel, surprised by the sudden change of subject, stammered slightly as he tried to explain the details of the mission. "W-well, Saïx said that if you're feeling up to it, you can come with me to Twilight Town on my mission. Just some Heartless population control. Easy stuff. I came to see if—"

"Sounds great. Let me just get dressed."

Roxas immediately headed for his closet before Axel could protest. Axel cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. "Hold on there, Roxas, don't you think maybe you ought to rest? I think you just threw up half your body weight in there…"

"I'm fine, Axel. Really. Let's go."

Though Axel wanted to argue, he could tell from the insistent tone of his friend's response that this was a conversation to drop for now. He left well enough alone and waited for Roxas to return from the closet. After a moment, the boy stumbled out, pulling up the zipper of his coat. Axel gave him a sheepish grin before reluctantly allowing his friend to lead the way down to the Grey Area.

They headed down the stairs at a brisk pace, and Axel couldn't help but notice how winded Roxas was getting, despite their moderate walking speed. Roxas slowed down as they approached the door to the common area, catching his breath before entering the room.

"Roxas. It's good to see you back on your feet."

Saïx greeted Roxas with the same blank face and ominous tone he used every morning. It never was pleasant to start the day taking orders from him, but it was particularly frustrating today.

"Good morning. Saïx, can I go with Axel on his mission today? I've got to get my strength back so you can start sending me on my own missions again."

Roxas straightened up, widening his eyes to make his face appear brighter, hoping he could fool the man into believing that he felt better than he looked. Saïx glanced up and down Roxas' body, his eyes narrowing as he examined him. "You're certain you feel up to it?"

Roxas nodded eagerly, "Never better."

Saïx paused, turning to Axel, "What do you think, Axel? Will he be burdensome to you?"

Axel scratched his head awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with either of them. "He seems fine to me. I doubt he'll slow me down."

"He looks ill. He should be in bed."

"Please, Saïx, I've been cooped up in my room for ages. I need some fresh air. Let me go with Axel; I promise I won't overdo it."

Saïx sighed softly before relenting. "Fine, as you wish. Axel, at the first sign of trouble, you bring him back."

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of him."

Saïx's only acknowledgement was the same cold stare and a small nod. Axel summoned a dark corridor for them to transport to Twilight Town, turning to Roxas before entering.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Let's go."

Roxas eagerly led the way into the corridor, quickly disappearing into the depths. Just as Axel prepared to follow him, Saïx called out to him once more.

"Axel. How long has he looked like that?"

Axel scratched his head and played dumb. "Like what?"

Saïx stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Don't think I can't see it. He's pale and gaunt. How long has he looked like that?"

Axel shrugged without looking at him. "I don't know, man. I found him like that this morning. I guess I didn't notice."

Saïx, with skepticism in his eyes, pierced into Axel's soul with his sinister glower. Axel kept up his poker face for several seconds of silence, having long since gotten used to Saïx's haunting expression, immune to his intimidation tactics.

"Don't let him out of your sight. I expect him back here in good condition."

Having said his piece, Saïx ambled over to the window to gaze at the moon. Axel got the distinct impression that there was something the man knew, perhaps some secret information to which Axel and Roxas were purposely being kept oblivious. He detested the idea of Saïx hiding things from him, in violation of the promise they made many years ago to never leave each other in the dark about the Organization's agenda. Without a word in response, Axel shrugged off the interaction and made his way through the corridor of darkness and joined Roxas on the other side.

* * *

"I allowed Roxas to visit Twilight Town today." Saïx sat casually in his seat, addressing the few men in the room for their daily meeting with his usual bored demeanor. Vexen leaned forward, fixing his eyes on the man with a raised brow.

"So soon? Is that wise?"

"He is fully recovered and getting restless. He practically begged me to let him go."

Vexen crossed his arms and forfeit the argument. He could concede that for the moment, Roxas was in no danger by just going for a walk in Twilight Town. "I suppose a little sun and fresh air won't hurt him."

Zexion offered his opinion in a clinical tone. "It's likely being exposed to such a familiar location will trigger some memory restoration. Straightening out those tangles will make it easier for the vessel to perform its function."

Vexen spoke up again with a small caveat. "If I might make a recommendation… I don't think he should be sent anywhere alone."

Saïx lowered his eyes and contemplated Vexen's recommendation, trying to puzzle together the week's mission schedule with such a change. "We are about to send Marluxia and Larxene back to Castle Oblivion. Others may need to join them. We are going to be short-handed if we have to pair him up every day."

"It would be safer if he had near-constant supervision. If something happens to him on a mission and no one is there to bring him back…"

Saïx thought for a moment more, his expression one of deep concentration. Finally, he relented with a sigh. "Very well. I will ensure he has a chaperone for every mission."

"Vexen, can you report on the condition of the vessel?" Xemnas' deep, authoritative voice silenced the room instantly.

Zexion beat Vexen to the punch, reading off of his notepad. "My scans show that the vessel is collecting information as it was intended to do. It is functioning at full capacity."

"Did nobody notice how sick Roxas looked this morning?"

Vexen swiveled his head around to Xigbar, alarmed by the unexpected report. "Sick? Sick how?"

"He looked like a ghost! All pale and sweaty…"

Saïx diffused the tension, brushing off the observation as insignificant. "I hadn't noticed. I'm sure he's fine. Axel is ordered to bring him back at the first sign of trouble."

Zexion stroked his chin as he theorized. "The memory absorption rate can cause some dizziness. Perhaps he is just 'motion sick.'"

"Gentlemen, be at ease. The experiment is progressing according to plan, and Roxas is in good health. I see no cause for concern at this time."

All conversations halted at the booming command of the Superior. Having gained the room's attention, Xemnas steered the discussion in a different direction.

"Vexen… How will we know when the vessel has completed its task?"

Vexen appeared uncomfortable at such a question, tugging at the collar of his coat absentmindedly as he answered. "Once the hero and the host are drained of memories, we will know that the absorption is complete."

"I see… and the lost heart?"

"We likely won't be able to tell without opening it up and looking inside."

"Hmm…"

Zexion filled the pause with a report he'd been waiting to present, remembering quite well a promise he'd made to Axel. "Sir, if I might add another variable… Roxas has his own memories that belong only to him. The vessel _might _absorb those, or it might not. I can't tell now if the vessel is targeting Roxas' memories, but given their close proximity I would think they'd be the first to go. Since we see no sign of that in Roxas, we may not lose him after all."

Xemnas returned an unsettling grin to the young apprentice, nodding appreciatively. "This is excellent news. It would be a shame to lose our valued Keyblade wielder. Thank you for your update, Zexion."

Xemnas addressed the group altogether for his closing remarks before ending the meeting. "I am pleased with the progress of this experiment. Well done, Vexen, Zexion. We shall reconvene tomorrow morning. You are dismissed."

* * *

The sunset was as beautiful as any other day, shooting rays of pink and orange across the sky above them. Axel and Roxas meandered down the streets of Twilight Town, combing the place for Heartless to exterminate. It had been nearly an hour since they had last seen one, but Roxas was loathe to return to the stuffy castle and have to breathe that same stale air again. Just being out in the sun brought back some of his energy, and he wished he could stay outside for the rest of the evening.

Axel kept his pace slow and deliberate, with a watchful eye on his friend. Roxas easily kept up with him, but it was clear that as the hours drew on, the boy had grown tired. Many times Axel stopped, sensing that Roxas needed the break, even if he never said so. He insisted he was fine every time Axel asked, and after awhile Axel stopped asking. They strolled in silence for a long while before Axel decided it was probably getting late enough that Saïx would be wondering where they were.

"You want to go back? It's getting late, and I haven't seen a Heartless in like an hour."

"Do we have to? It's so nice out here."

Axel smiled at his friend, thrilled to see the color returning to his face. "All right, lets get some ice cream."

Once they'd purchased their ice cream, they made their way to their usual spot at the top of the clock tower. Roxas had missed the feeling of the breeze blowing on his face as he watched the trams run back and forth through the town. Seeing his face light up put Axel at ease, and the puncturing feeling in his chest gradually dissipated.

He gazed out at the horizon as the clouds rolled lazily by, losing himself briefly in his memories. He'd lost count of the number of times he and Roxas had come up here to eat ice cream together. Sometimes they would talk and laugh, other times they would watch the sunset in silence. No matter what they did, it was being in each other's company that kept bringing them back. Axel cherished these memories, grateful to have them and hoping to make many more.

"Hey, Axel?"

Axel was jerked out of his trance at the sound of Roxas' voice. He noticed that his ice cream had begun to melt, and glanced over to see that Roxas had barely touched his as well.

"Hmm?"

"You've been… quiet lately."

Axel scratched his head nervously, stalling for time as he finally tasted his ice cream. "Have I?"

"Yeah… ever since I woke up. You don't talk as much as you used to. Sometimes it's like you won't look at me. What's wrong?"

_Well it was nice while it lasted, _Axel thought to himself as the stabbing sensation returned to his sternum. Subtly trying to rub it away, he frantically racked his brain for an excuse.

"I don't know… I guess maybe I'm just worried about you or something…"

Roxas was not convinced. He stared at Axel for a long time before pressing him again.

"We Nobodies don't have the hearts to worry. Your words. Now tell me what's wrong."

Axel, having been backed into a corner, heaved a defeated sigh as he anxiously chewed his ice cream stick. His gaze had drifted over to the parts of town where he had confronted Roxas, eventually settling on the alleyway where he had finally managed to subdue him. The pain in his chest turned to erratic thumping, until finally he relented.

"Roxas… do you remember much from before you were asleep?"

"Sure, I do. I remember lots of things. There's chunks missing, but…"

"Do you remember anything about being kidnapped?" Roxas sat for a moment, staring at the darkening sky, the wheels in his head turning as he tried to summon up an image to answer Axel's question. After several seconds, he only drew blank after blank, eventually giving up.

"I guess I don't… I don't remember anything about the kidnapping."

Axel sighed again, his head in his hands, struggling to put together his explanation in a way that would make sense _and _spare Roxas' feelings.

"Well, Roxas… you took off. You got angry about something and you ran away. I tried to stop you, but I couldn't…"

Roxas listened patiently, unwilling to interrupt his friend even though his mind filled with questions. Axel had averted his eyes again as he continued his recollection.

"After you left, you were kidnapped. There are people in the Old Mansion who wiped your memories and stuck you in a computer simulation of Twilight Town to shield you from us. But we needed you back… so the Organization sent me in after you… they ordered me just to bring you back in one piece…"

Axel began to feel nauseous as he re-lived the painful memories in his mind. He could see the confusion on his friend's face, and he felt Roxas' eyes burning into his soul even when he looked away.

"When I went to find you, you had an entirely new and different life in there. You had a new past, new friends, new memories… and you didn't remember me at all. You didn't remember any of your time with the Organization. They replaced all of your memories with artificial ones that they planted in your head."

Axel kept his gaze averted, but Roxas could see clearly how much it hurt to tell this story. He felt a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach at the idea of having caused his friend so much pain. He still had a plethora of questions, but waited patiently for Axel to finish before asking any of them.

"I was… I was hurt. I was angry. I lost control and… I brutalized you. You still had your Keyblade but you'd forgotten how to fight…" Axel trembled as he recalled the confrontation, visibly disturbed by the memory. "It was no contest. It was hardly even a battle. It was an all out assault. I destroyed you. I'll never forget the look in your eyes…"

Axel cut off abruptly as his throat tightened. He shifted uncomfortably, hiding his face from Roxas. "I pummeled you until you stopped moving. You were lying there in a heap on the pavement, in a puddle of your own blood… and I sat there on the ground and just stared at you for a long time… you could have been dying and I just froze… I'm sorry, Roxas, I'm so sorry…"

Roxas sat in stunned silence for several minutes as Axel fought to collect himself. For a guy with no heart, he had exhibited a wealth of emotion since Roxas awakened. The lengths to which he was forced to go just to bring Roxas home clearly troubled him deeply. Roxas stayed with that thought, focusing on how much Axel must have really cared about him to have resorted to such violence, rather than demonize him for a thrashing that Roxas couldn't even remember. Although there could be no excuse for Axel's offense, all the same, Roxas forgave him. He still had questions, and quite a few feelings of his own to sort out, but for now, Axel had suffered enough. His questions could wait. Right now, Axel needed his reassurance.

He laid a hand on Axel's shoulder. The man flinched, still refusing to look his friend in the eye. Roxas spoke anyway, certain he was listening.

"Axel… I'm glad you brought me back. And I'm sorry I hurt you."

Axel whipped his head around to protest Roxas' apology, but the sight of his warm expression stopped him in his tracks. It was almost humorous how easily Roxas could settle him down just by looking at him. His smile was contagious, and he could barely stifle a nervous laugh at the sudden shift in his mood.

"Man, how do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"I don't know, you just… you make me feel better. And I don't deserve it."

Roxas blushed at the compliment. He wasn't supposed to have a heart either. All this talk of being hurt, angry, remorseful… none of it made sense. How was it the two of them could feel anything at all?

"You're my friend. You were sad and I wanted to make you happy."

Axel scoffed, shaking his head with incredulity. "Neat trick, considering we're not supposed to be able to feel sad or happy."

"Maybe we just remember what those emotions felt like. And we can fool ourselves into thinking we can really feel them."

"Well that's what Xemnas always told us…"

Roxas thought for a moment, trying to understand this odd phenomenon, almost positive that it was not unique to the two of them.

"I'm not sure I believe that. If we really couldn't feel anything, we'd be no different from Dusks."

Axel pondered his words, wrestling with whether or not he could agree with them. Roxas had a hell of a point, but it went against everything the Organization had taught them for so many years. Those teachings were so deeply ingrained that it was a struggle to allow anything to contradict them.

"But," Roxas continued his theorizing. "I think there are some of us who really don't feel anything. Xemnas, Saïx…"

This last development grabbed Axel's attention. Roxas had a keen eye and had made some excellent observations, but Axel knew Saïx too well.

"Saïx can feel… he just chooses not to."

Roxas dropped his head, silently questioning what possible motivation a person would have to suppress the one thing the Organization was supposed to be striving for. He chose not to voice these questions to Axel, who appeared to dislike talking about Saïx. Roxas instead contemplated his own feelings about Saïx's decision, eventually coming to a solemn conclusion: Pity.

It was nearly dark before they finally decided to return to the castle. Saïx would likely have some choice words for them for staying out so late, but there was never any pleasing him anyway. Roxas decided to turn in for the night once they arrived, leaving Axel to sit alone with his thoughts in the Grey Area. He stared out the window for what felt like hours, waiting for the knots in his mind to untie themselves and the noise to clear. As he sank deeply into the sofa, he had just begun to feel comfortable when he was startled by the sound of footsteps accompanied by a familiar voice.

"Still not sleeping?"

Axel swiveled his head around so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash, shocked to see Saïx standing in the doorway with his signature haunting expression. When Axel didn't answer, he approached the sofa where he sat.

"Didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't. And I sleep just fine, thanks."

Saïx lowered himself onto the sofa beside him, gazing out the window at the moon. It was an odd sight to see him looking so relaxed. He normally perched on the hardest and most uncomfortable furniture available, so stiff that he appeared to be harboring an inappropriately placed stick no matter where he went. The image of him casually leaning into the soft cushions of the sofa was jarring, to say the least.

"The moon… It's quite lovely tonight."

"If you say so."

Now Axel began to understand. Saïx had always been drawn to the moon, often spending many hours just staring at it, a perfect contrast to Axel spending his spare time staring at the sun. It's a wonder they were ever friends, being such opposites.

"It's late. If you sleep so well, Axel, then why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I asked you first."

Axel crossed his arms, exasperated by Saïx's prodding. "I just needed to be alone with my thoughts. That's all. It's easier to relax in here."

Saïx didn't even raise an eyebrow, but he didn't need to. Axel could tell that he didn't buy anything he said, but thankfully Saïx pried no further, returning his gaze to the moon.

"For once, I agree with you. I have always found peace in this room."

"Do you ever sleep?"

Saïx allowed for a brief pause before giving his admission, gesturing out the tall window in front of them. "Of course. But look… A full moon is coming."

Axel grew uneasy at these words. Saïx's fascination with the moon was well beyond a harmless inclination, and it had been so ever since they joined the Organization. He shuddered at the ominous reminder of the moon's cycle, shifting an extra centimeter away from his former friend.

Both men were quiet for a long while, staring at the moon, deep in thought. Saïx had practically merged with the couch, while Axel limited himself to the farthest edge of the cushion. He supposed by this point it was obvious that Saïx had been right about his insomnia. Axel could rarely hide anything from his frightening, watchful eyes.

"Do I have to sit here all night to get you to talk to me?"

Axel, taken aback by Saïx's remark, turned to face him with a confrontational look. Since when did Saïx want to shoot the breeze or share a deep conversation? After so many years, there was simply nothing for them to discuss. He could only guess that perhaps Saïx wanted something from him, but couldn't fathom exactly what.

"All right. What do you want to talk about?"

Saïx stroked his chin contemplatively, speaking with a tone of curiosity and false concern.

"I don't need to talk. I'm lending an ear. You appear to have something on your mind."

"I've got a lot of things on my mind."

"Well, you'd best address them one at a time or I'll never be able to keep up."

"What's this all about, Isa? What do you want from me?" Axel finally lost his patience with the man. Following his outburst he stood and trudged to the window, leaning his forehead on the cool glass pane.

Saïx, well aware of what was good for him, remained on the sofa, a fair distance from Axel. He had nothing more to say, but nevertheless he wished that his former friend would stay. It was true that Saïx spent many nights in this room alone. Sleep had eluded him for many years, welcoming him into its warm embrace only once or twice a month, or perhaps not at all. He had meant it when he said that he found serenity in this room. With the moon as his only company, bathing in the comfort of its radiant glow, he could at least pretend to rest.

Axel, with a heavy sigh, finally turned away from the window to face his comrade. The man hadn't moved an inch from his position, and his frigid stare left Axel with an uneasy chill.

"I'm gonna go and get some sleep. You should, too." He made his way toward the hall without looking back, until he heard his former friend call out to him once more.

"Should you change your mind… you know where I will be."

Axel winced as he fought away the sharp tug of temptation and the sting of longing for a past left behind. There was a time when he certainly could have opened up to him, when sharing one's feelings wasn't such a sin, when the acknowledgement of pain wasn't weak. But those times were long gone, and they were never coming back.

"Goodnight, Isa."


	7. Old Wounds

"Good morning, Roxas."

Roxas stood in the doorway of the lab, frozen in place, trying to force himself not to run away.

"... something on your mind?"

Roxas cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, still struggling to spit out words. He began to feel nauseous again, now biting his lip to stop himself from vomiting. He finally couldn't take the anxiety anymore and decided to take off back to his room. "Uh, never mind. Sorry I disturbed you."

"Wait!" Zexion called out to him as he turned to head back down the hall. He quickly caught up to Roxas, laying a hand on his shoulder in the hopes that he would turn around. "You came down here for a reason, Roxas. Tell me what's wrong."

Roxas drew inward, close to the wall, hiding his face. Zexion stepped around to the front of him and gasped when he saw it. Roxas was pale and thin, his hair matted with sweat, and his eyes bloodshot.

"Good lord, Roxas, you look terrible. Are you in pain?"

Roxas shook his head rapidly. The nausea had built to dangerous levels, and he dared not open his mouth lest he become sick yet again. He doubled over, clutching his aching stomach and trying to breathe through his nose. His efforts ultimately failed, and he vomited right there on the floor. Zexion jumped out of the way, narrowly missing it. Thankfully, Roxas' stomach was empty, and there wasn't much left to expel. After several seconds he slid down to his knees, succumbing to seemingly endless dry heaving. His stomach writhed and clenched relentlessly, and he longed to vomit again just to feel a glimmer of relief.

Zexion gently patted his back, still stunned by the sudden change in Roxas' condition. He could feel the boy's abdominal muscles spasming violently, even though the vomiting had ceased. Roxas, coughing and sputtering, curled up on himself in pain. The retching began to gradually fade, but Roxas remained still as stone, wheezing, sweat falling from his face onto the floor.

"There now, it's alright…" Zexion whispered to him, still rubbing his back and letting him stay still for as long as he needed. Roxas looked up at him, panting and with eyes watering, silently begging him for help. Today was the final straw. He simply couldn't take it anymore.

"Breathe through your nose… there, that's good. Roxas, when you're ready, let's go inside and talk."

"Zexion… make it stop… please…"

Zexion stared at Roxas with pity in his eyes, feeling some peculiar aches in his chest as he witnessed the boy's suffering. "I will, but you've got to come inside first."

After a minute with no more spasms, Roxas let Zexion help lift him back to his feet. Slowly, they made their way into the lab, where Roxas was led to the same cold metal table he'd laid on several times already. He curled up immediately on his side, pulling his legs to his chest and trying to catch his breath.

Zexion pulled up a chair and sat beside him, fiddling with a device for injecting potions. "Roxas… how long has this been going on?"

Roxas stared at him, dreading what his reaction would be when he learned the truth. After a long exhale he relented and spoke with a hoarse voice, pausing frequently for breath. "This happens… every day… two weeks now…"

Zexion's eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth hanging open. "Two weeks? Roxas… why didn't you tell me?"

Roxas sighed and looked away, lost for words. He was tired of people hovering over him, and he didn't want to give them another reason to do so. He couldn't bear the thought of being confined to his bed yet again.

"You didn't have to suffer so long, Roxas." After giving Roxas the injection, he removed his gloves and laid his hands over Roxas' cheeks and forehead. Roxas pulled his legs in tighter, waiting for the nausea to subside.

"Zexion… what's happening to me?"

"I don't know. You're not feverish. I don't think you're sick. I need to run some tests. Lie still, I'll be back."

He took off into the next room, leaving Roxas alone on the table. _You still have time to run, _Roxas thought to himself, but immediately pushed the thought away. Zexion was helping him, and he had no reason to run.

Zexion soon returned with an electronic notepad and a few other instruments. He spent nearly an hour cycling through each one, frantically typing notes in between. After being scanned with nearly every piece of equipment in the lab, Roxas was certain Zexion was about to just send him back to bed with no answers when he heard him gasp abruptly. Roxas opened his eyes to see Zexion staring at a nearby screen. Roxas stopped breathing, shuddering to think what had the scientist so spooked.

Zexion set down his notepad and approached Roxas cautiously, masking his nerves behind his excellent bedside manner.

"Roxas… would you remove your coat?"

Taken aback, Roxas did what he was asked, pulling the coat over his head and waiting to see what Zexion wanted to examine. Zexion guided Roxas onto his back and gently pressed his fingers over several spots on his abdomen. Roxas, feeling thankful that he was no longer nauseous, watched Zexion's face intently for any clues as to how serious he seemed to think the situation was. Zexion was quiet as he poked at Roxas' stomach, concealing his reactions quite well.

After a few minutes of prodding, Zexion stood, speechless, staring at his notes. Roxas found it difficult to settle the rapid fluttering in his chest as he waited in silence for his diagnosis. Judging by how Zexion was reacting, it must have been pretty bad. Finally, Zexion set his notepad down and laid a hand on Roxas' shoulder, speaking with a calm and comforting tone.

"Roxas, I don't want you to be worried. But I don't quite have any answers yet. I need to study this information some more. I think you should go back to your room and rest until I have something to report. You'll be more comfortable there."

Roxas sighed heavily, having dreaded such a prescription. Zexion helped him back up so he could redress himself. Although he was disappointed, he followed Zexion's orders and made his way toward his room, trying to decide what he'd do with his day now that he couldn't go anywhere.

Lying in his bed and staring out the window, Roxas contemplated Zexion's reactions during the examination. He prodded at his own belly, hoping to feel whatever it was that startled Zexion, but he couldn't feel anything that wasn't supposed to be there. He rose from the bed to go and look at himself in the mirror, once again finding nothing to be alarmed by, save for his pale skin and bony figure.

Still feeling sticky and sweaty, he decided to pass some time in the shower. He sat on the floor as the warm water poured over his head, soothing the drumming in his chest and allowing him to feel relaxed. He lost track of time as he rested there, eyes closed, deep in thought. After a long while, when his skin began to wrinkle, he decided to return to his bed and take a nap.

Drowsiness struck him as soon as his head hit the pillow. As he drifted off, he thought he could hear a voice calling his name. He didn't recognize it, but it sounded vaguely familiar.

_Roxas…_

The sound startled him awake, and he sat up quickly and whipped his head around the room, searching for the owner of the voice. To his dismay, he was alone. When seconds passed in silence and the voice did not return, he laid back down, deciding that he had likely dreamed up the voice. He closed his eyes, succumbing to his fatigue, letting his mind file through pleasant memories to lull him to sleep. The sound of Axel's laughter. The taste of sea-salt ice cream. The warmth of a tranquil beach. The friendly face of a girl with dark hair…

* * *

Axel took his time making his way up the stairs after a long day doing recon with Xigbar. They were instructed to stake out a new world, one which was so vast it took all day just to cover a small portion of it. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and crash, but he had to check in on Roxas. He'd thought about his friend all day, wondering if he was doing okay.

When he reached Roxas' door, he knocked lightly, calling out to him. "Hey, Roxas. It's Axel. You awake?"

"You can come in, Axel."

Axel entered the room to find Roxas lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, looking bored out of his mind. He didn't turn his face when Axel came through the door, his eyes remaining fixed intently on the metal pipes high above his head.

"You okay, buddy? Did they stick you on bed rest again?"

Roxas heaved a sigh before finally giving Axel a response. "No. I got sick again today. It was really bad. I went to see Zexion about it but he couldn't figure out what was wrong."

Axel stepped forward and seated himself on the edge of the bed, joining Roxas in his ceiling watching. "Zexion's a smart guy. Vexen, too. I'm sure they'll figure it out soon enough."

Roxas closed his eyes with another heavy sigh, turning on his side and absentmindedly picking at a stray thread on his sheets. "If it doesn't stop, Saïx won't let me go on any missions. I'll just be stuck here all day, every day."

Axel struggled to think up a response to put his friend's mind at ease. Roxas was right. The Organization wasn't about to risk their whole plan falling to ruin for Roxas' sake. They'd lock him in his room and tie him to the bed if they thought it would help them reach their goals.

"I'm sure this won't go on forever. They'll fix it and then Saïx will let you go on missions again. And we can go have ice cream afterwards."

"Can't wait for the day when I can keep it down…"

Axel smiled at Roxas with pity in his eyes, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. He missed having ice cream with Roxas — most of the time he was too sick to join and never seemed to have any appetite. He hoped that Vexen and Zexion would come up with something soon before Roxas died of malnutrition.

Roxas took notice when Axel failed to suppress a yawn, unable to hide his exhaustion any longer. "You're tired. You should get some sleep, Axel. Don't worry about me."

Axel rubbed his eyes, nodding in agreement of Roxas' observation. "You're right. I'm dead on my feet. I'll see you tomorrow, buddy. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight Axel."

Axel smiled at Roxas as he rose to his feet with an enormous stretch. Yawning, he made his way to the door and traipsed down the halls with shoulders slouched, dragging his feet beneath him. When he finally reached his room, he found he didn't even have the energy to undress. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he trudged past his closet and collapsed onto the bed. He let his limbs hang off the edges of the mattress while his head sank deeply into the pillow. Just as he closed his eyes, he heard the door open, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps entering his room. He didn't have to look to see who it was.

"Haven't we had this discussion about knocking before? You just make a fist and—"

"Axel. We will need to send you back to Castle Oblivion."

At this, Axel sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, curiously glancing in Saïx's direction. "Me? What for?"

"Lord Xemnas wants to reopen the investigation there, now, while we have the upper hand. We need to find that lost heart before they do."

Axel crossed his arms, contemplating. The Organization had pulled out of Castle Oblivion months ago when Naminé was taken from them. They had successfully unlocked and scrambled Sora's memories, and their job was to keep it that way, but their plans were dashed by Naminé's escape. "But why send me? I don't have any better chance than Marluxia and Larxene."

"You will be going with Roxas. Xemnas believes even just entering the castle may trigger something. Best case scenario is that he leads you straight to it."

"Does he? Does he also realize that the last time I tried to bring Roxas in there, he collapsed?"

Saïx closed his eyes, having little patience for Axel's interruptions. "That is why you're going with him. He was overwhelmed by Sora's memories before, but since we retrieved him from the simulated town, the work on restoring Sora has reached a standstill. Now is our chance to continue."

Axel glared at him, "And suppose something happens to Roxas?"

There was a pause. Saïx's cold stare remained unbroken, as if etched in stone. "You can expect the orders soon."

Axel rose to his feet to face him, only inches from his face, their noses practically touching. He could have burned right through the man's corneas with his fiery glower, but Saïx's unblinking expression did not falter, appearing almost bored at Axel's display of dominance.

Axel, accepting that he simply could not intimidate Saïx, scoffed and turned his back to him, stepping around his bed to look out the window. After a beat, he realized that, despite Axel's clear disdain for his presence, Saïx had not left. Clearly, he had more to say, but for some reason was not saying it.

In a deep, sinister tone, Axel decided to break the ice for him. "You didn't come all the way up here just to tell me that."

There was silence, heavy with anticipation. Axel smirked, glad to finally have the upper hand. He let Saïx stew in his discomfort, waiting patiently for his response. It was several seconds before Saïx, sounding smaller than when he had first entered the room, finally gave his answer.

"I... have need of your services."

Axel chuckled at his former friend's reply. It had been years since he'd heard those words — a secret code Saïx used back when they had reason to use it. Axel wanted nothing to do with the man, but he couldn't let him leave now that he had something Saïx wanted. Axel endeavored to particularly enjoy this rejection. "I'm all booked up for today, you'll have to make an appointment with my secretary."

He waited for the sound of footsteps but could hear only silence. "Lea... what has happened to you?"

Axel did not answer right away, caught off-guard by the use of his human name. In his eyes, it was Isa who had changed the moment he committed to being Saïx. He was darker and more cruel than he had ever been. He was withdrawn and resentful. He barely resembled the friend he used to be.

"Not sure what you mean. I'm still the same guy I always was."

"You are different, Lea. Ever since—"

"Have you ever considered that maybe it's you who is different?" Saïx said nothing, taken aback by Axel's accusation. "You're not the same man you were before we joined up. Oh sure, you're fiercely loyal, and you're ambitious as ever, a real testament to your work ethic. But when did you get so damn cold?"

Saïx dropped his head and was silent, lost for words. Axel continued to stare out the window, waiting to see if he would get an answer to such a piercing question. He heard a shuffling behind him and finally turned around to see his former friend standing completely naked before him. Stunned, mouth agape, Axel gazed up and down the man's body, as flawless as it ever was. The moon beams reflected off his porcelain white skin and danced through his silky blue hair. It was several seconds before Axel came to his senses, clearing his throat nervously.

"Not even going to wine and dine me first?"

Saïx sauntered seductively toward Axel, locked onto his eyes with a sensual smolder. "You know.. I remember a time when _you_ had to wine and dine _me_."

Axel chuckled. "And I remember very few times where it was so easy to get you to disrobe."

"It's been a long time, Lea."

He delicately placed his hands on Axel's chest. Axel shuddered at his touch, trying to resist his desires. Saïx slowly pulled the zipper of Axel's robe down, one tooth at a time. His eyes never left Axel's, and his cold expression shifted to one of hot seduction. Axel remained frozen, his chest fluttering and his breathing shallow. Saïx made slow, meticulous work of unzipping Axel's coat, and all the while Axel grew more aroused every second. Finally having slipped the coat off his shoulders, Saïx brushed his fingertips over Axel's bare chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Axel felt as though his skin were vibrating.

He took Saïx by the chin and turned his face up. Saïx did not resist, parting his lips just in time for Axel to meet them with his own. He kissed Saïx deeply, running his fingers through his blue hair. Axel had nearly forgotten the taste of him. He tried all his tricks on him but still found his own knees weakening. He had bedded half the Organization dozens of times over, but not a one could curl Axel's toes like Saïx.

He nibbled at Saïx's bottom lip, eliciting a barely-audible whimper from the man, his hands traveling over Axel's body. Axel pulled away from the kiss to collect himself, still trying to rein in his arousal. Saïx began planting kisses all over his neck and chest, until Axel snapped and grabbed Saïx's wrist. "On your knees, _comrade_."

Reacting quickly to Axel's command, Saïx obeyed and knelt to the floor in front of him. Hastily unbuckling Axel's belt and releasing the zipper, Saïx pulled his pants down until at last, Axel stood naked and ready. Saïx stared longingly at Axel's handsome body, barely able to keep his hands off of him.

"It's not going to suck itself." Axel crossed his arms impatiently, waiting for the submissive Saïx to begin servicing him. Saïx quickly attended to Axel's needs, a glutton for his enormity and his authoritative performance. But Axel was only half-performing. Although Saïx was irresistible, much of the anger Axel displayed was genuine, as he had years of resentment to blow off, and this was the perfect opportunity to do so. Just how could Saïx have the audacity to come begging for gratification _now _after all they'd been through? Saïx had incredible gall to act so cold and distant by day, treating Axel as if he were beneath contempt, only to come knocking on his door at night looking for a warm body to lie with. And just how did he know Axel wouldn't be able to refuse? Axel sank into his self-loathing, internally scolding himself for giving in to Saïx's advances. His former friend would not go unpunished. Axel would take Saïx to bed tonight and give him the sound thrashing he both requested and deserved.

Saïx hungrily devoured Axel for several minutes, with great skill and attention to detail. He knew his lover's every weak spot, and he thoroughly took advantage of each one. Axel stood back and enjoyed the view, stiffening at the degrading image below him; the Organization's greatest pain in the neck, on the floor, lips wrapped around one of his subordinates. Every so often, Saïx's eyes glanced up at Axel, as if seeking approval, but Axel showed him none, remaining expressionless and giving the man a taste of his own bitter medicine. He took Saïx by the hair and forced him to take more of his throbbing erection, hoping to hear the satisfying sound of his supervisor choking on him, or to see his pretty eyes water. Saïx didn't flinch; he drank in every inch that Axel presented to him, as if his throat were bottomless. He was truly an expert in this category.

Behind his authoritative mask, Axel was practically on fire. Every inch of him tingled with pleasure, and every touch from Saïx sent chills down his spine. He quivered inside his friend's mouth at every sinful draw of his tongue. It took enormous effort to conceal his enjoyment, and he finally could not bear the wait. He needed this man in bed, and quickly.

"All right. That was passable," Axel instructed with an uninterested tone and gestured toward the bed. "Get on all fours while I'm still hard." Saïx swiftly climbed onto the bed as he was asked, and Axel took his position behind him and promptly inserted himself. Saïx grunted, surprised by the speed of Axel's penetration. Axel wasted no time mercilessly thrusting into Saïx, who could not help but utter a series of hoarse whimpers at Axel's impressive size and unforgiving pace. Axel grabbed a fistful of Saïx's bright blue hair and pulled his head back, leaning over him until his lips were inches from his lover's ear.

"Pitiful Isa... always making me do your dirty work... What would Xemnas say if he saw you like this?" Saïx turned his head to face him but knew better than to say a word. After a minute Axel released him and let his head drop. Axel slowed his pace, giving his partner the illusion of mercy as he fought to control his insatiable lust, determined to prevent the premature end to this unforgettable encounter.

He dragged his fingers down Saïx's back, letting them slide through every curve. There was no denying the man was beautiful. It was too bad he was such a colossal bastard. Axel pulled himself out and laid down on the bed next to him, panting heavily and wiping sweat from his forehead.

"You work me too hard, Isa. I'm tired. Why don't _you_ get to work for a change?"

Saïx obediently climbed on top of him, gracefully draping himself over Axel's chest as he straddled him. He crawled toward Axel's face to kiss him, sensually grinding his hips. Seizing control again, Axel quickly interrupted the kiss, pushing Saïx away until he sat upright, his imposing form casting shadows over Axel's skin. Axel gazed at the breathtaking view of Saïx's undulating silhouette as he plunged himself deeper inside of him. He could have spent hours just admiring Saïx's stunning physique, but his greedy eyes quickly settled on his prize. He casually brushed his fingers over it, dragging them up and down the length of him. Saïx moaned and whimpered with pleasure at his lover's touch, his torso writhing with intense desire. Watching the usually rigid and unyielding supervisor lose his composure was almost too much. Axel tried to avert his gaze from his amorous glare, but could not tear his eyes off of him. A familiar warmth began to wash over him as he drew closer to losing control.

"Hmm. I can't look at you. Turn around. I don't want to see your face."

Saïx quickly reversed position and eased himself onto Axel once again, the interruption buying him some time. Axel laid back and let Saïx have the reins for awhile. He watched the rippling of Saïx's backside as he effortlessly accommodated Axel's formidable size. He reached out and yanked Saïx's shimmering hair again, and Saïx gasped with surprise, pain, and pleasure. Axel propped himself up to a sitting position behind him and reached around Saïx's hips to stroke him slowly. Saïx threw back his head onto Axel's shoulder, his chest heaving with each breath as he sank ever deeper onto Axel. He rolled his hips back and forth wantonly, barely able to contain himself. Axel grazed his fingertips over Saïx's neck as he nibbled his ear, sending him into the telltale spasms he'd been waiting for.

"Lea.. at least let me see you when I—"

"Who said you could talk?" Axel maneuvered himself out from under Saïx and threw him down on his back, interrupting his impending climax to deliver more punishment. Saïx's body squirmed and writhed with anticipation. Axel crawled over to Saïx and drank in the sight of him lying there, legs open with lustful yearning. How long had it been since Axel had seen him wear any expression other than contempt? He focused intently on every feature of Saïx's face, his furrowed brow, his gritted teeth, his watering eyes. Axel nearly broke as he watched the stony face of his old friend grimace with unfulfilled desire. He was running on borrowed time.

"Filthy slut," Lea slammed the man's knees together and penetrated him viciously from the side. "You'll finish when I give you permission to."

He reached between Saïx's legs again, feeling him clench and shiver inside his grasp. Saïx bit his lip, his fingers tightly gripping the sheets. Axel was brutal and animalistic as he threw all his weight into every thrust, burying himself deep inside of Saïx's quivering form. His spasms were nearly unbearable, and Axel struggled to maintain his composure.

He yanked Saïx's legs apart, suspending himself over him, holding him down firmly by the wrists, and burying himself deeper inside his gluttonous flesh. Saïx squirmed under Axel's grip, whimpering and pleading with his eyes. Axel smirked with devious amusement as he denied him his long-awaited release. How he longed to hear the man beg.

In a gracious act of mercy, Axel finally freed Saïx from his restraints, towering over his lover once more to watch him indulge aggressively. Saïx looked up at him with an expression Axel hadn't seen in years. Caught off-guard, he quickly looked away, unsettled by the memories that began bombarding his mind. He froze, paralyzed by the sudden distraction.

"Lea, please… look at me… I'm about to..." Saïx's raspy voice snapped Axel out of his daze. Rather than punish him for speaking out of turn, Axel obliged his former friend's request, hovering just inches above his face. Resuming his thrusting, he locked his smoldering gaze into Saïx's eyes.

"Fine. You have my permission."

Axel felt it before he saw it. Powerful tremors built up in Saïx's core. His hips bucked wildly and his eyes widened. To Axel's surprise, Saïx reached up and pulled him in for a final passionate kiss. As their lips touched, he felt Saïx explode with a shout beneath him, his moans and whimpers muffled by Axel's mouth on his. His climax sent spasms through Axel's body and he finally lost it. His chest heaved, his back arched, and a pulsing warmth spread from deep inside him to the farthest reaches of his extremities. He dug his fingers into the bedsheets so forcefully that his knuckles turned white. He broke the kiss, gasping as he came so strongly that he grew dizzy. He slammed himself violently inside of Saïx, throbbing as the pleasure peaked, the sounds of both men grunting and moaning without restraint echoing through the room.

The bliss and euphoria seemed to go on for hours before eventually winding down as their bodies went limp, sinking into the mattress with exhaustion. They remained there, panting and sweating, staring at each other in silence. Axel remained inside Saïx for a long time, wishing he didn't have to part with his former lover again. He remembered past nights they had shared together with fondness, longing for what they used to have. He wanted desperately to reach out and touch Saïx's face, to kiss him again. Whether he had a heart or not, looking at what the man had become now… hurt. It hurt more than anything.

He pulled himself out of Saïx, winded and wiping sweat from his face, rose from the bed and stepped toward his bathroom. Hesitating, he turned for one last glance at Saïx's naked form lying on his bed, wondering if this would be the last time he would ever see it. He forced himself to look away, refusing to surrender himself to false hopes and painful memories. The self-loathing had returned with a vengeance. Before secluding himself in his shower for the rest of the night, he gave one final command to his former friend and lover.

"Now get out of my sight."


	8. Affliction

"Gentlemen. I have received numerous reports from concerned comrades regarding Roxas' condition. We have been diligently observing him, and today Vexen and Zexion are prepared to present their findings."

There was silence in the room as every man sat at the edge of their seat, eagerly awaiting the impending update. Ten of thirteen seats were occupied, and each Nobody stole the occasional glance at the lowest of the remaining empty ones. Xemnas turned to the two scientists seated at his right, gesturing for them to begin their presentation.

"Vexen. Zexion. Proceed."

Zexion volunteered to speak first, clearing his throat and consulting his electronic notepad.

"Roxas came to me a few days ago, appearing to be in pain and vomiting profusely. He admitted that he had experienced these bouts every morning for two weeks and had concealed them. Since his illness had some correlation to the timing of our experiment, I examined him thoroughly. What I found was… shocking."

He shot Vexen a brief look before scrolling through his notes and continuing his report. "I don't know how or why, but the vessel we put inside him is growing."

Gasps could be heard throughout the room. Axel felt a dropping sensation in his stomach, as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"Growing? How?"

"It has taken on some sort of physical form, situated in his lower abdominal region. And it has been increasing in size upon every subsequent examination."

Saïx, with an incredulous look, began grilling him for details, beginning a back-and-forth interrogation between himself and the scientists. "And you're certain it's the vessel that has caused this?"

"Unfortunately, I can't be certain. But I have ruled out everything else."

"Did this show up in any of your test simulations?"

Vexen spoke up in defense of his research. "Not at all. Nothing even close to this."

There was a pause in the conversation before other members felt comfortable to ask questions of their own. Luxord voiced his curiosity, breaking the ice on behalf of the lower rungs. "If it's growing, does that mean it's alive?"

"Yes, it does show signs of life, but only at the most basic level."

"What does it look like?" Demyx, having never been a scientist, had little patience for the technical speak and kept his questions simple. Zexion could only shrug in response, lacking an answer for him.

"I wish I could say. Every scan came up blank. All of my readings show me that the vessel is still there and functioning, but the data does not explain the physical manifestation."

"You can't even get a picture of it?"

"Like I said, empty. Large portions of the data is just a series of errors."

Saïx cut in again with a slightly accusatory tone. "Is your equipment faulty?"

Feeling threatened, Vexen practically jumped out of his seat in his haste to respond. "No. Not only is it highly unlikely that all of our equipment would break down at once, but I tested each device on myself and on Zexion, and there were no malfunctions."

There was a long beat where no one spoke, every man lost for words. Xemnas filled the silence with his calm but authoritative voice. "Please, continue with your report."

Vexen turned to Zexion and gave him a nod. Zexion scrolled through his notes again and continued the explanation.

"The vessel seems to be collecting memories, as it was designed to do. So we know that whatever it's doing, it still works. However, it seems to be physiologically draining for Roxas. There was never supposed to be any discomfort, but he has been sick and sleepless for weeks. His vitals are declining steadily and he is obviously fatigued. And that's just the symptoms he has shared with me."

Saïx, unmoved by the disturbing report, offered his opinion with his usual cold expression and bored-sounding tone. "Sounds like the answer's clear. Take the thing out."

"We don't know what will happen if we take it out now. It seems to have incorporated with Roxas' body. We don't know how deep that connection goes yet."

"My suggestion still stands."

"Okay is anyone else here putting the pieces together? It's alive, it's growing, it's draining his energy, it's making him sick, does any of this sound familiar to the rest of you?" Xigbar's first contribution to the conversation spread unease through the air as the members puzzled the evidence together in their heads. Saïx quickly shot down his far fetched theory, unwilling to even entertain such a preposterous idea.

"Don't be ridiculous. Nobodies do not have the ability to—"

"Actually…" Zexion, stroking his chin, interrupted with a tone of surprise. "That's a pretty adequate way to describe what's happening to him."

"You can't be serious. It's been a few years since I took a course on human anatomy, but I'm quite certain Roxas lacks a few key components necessary for such a condition."

Zexion dropped his notepad to his lap in exasperation, for the first time looking out at his fellow comrades' faces instead of burying his eyes in his notes. "It's a close approximation. Roxas is pregnant. Let's just get that out in the open so we can all start coming to terms with it."

"Pregnant?!"

"That's absurd."

"Mazel Tov!"

"Wait just a minute!" Axel halted the exclamations with what he considered to be the only voice of reason in the room. "How far do you plan to let this go? This isn't a game. You can't just play around with Roxas' insides to satisfy your curiosity!"

To his surprise, Saïx spoke up to defend his argument. "Axel's point is fair. Roxas and the vessel are connected, now. If we lose Roxas, we may lose the vessel as well."

Axel glared at him, about to call him out on his failure to consider Roxas' welfare over that of the vessel's. Xemnas raised a hand to silence his subordinates and offer his initial judgment on the matter.

"Settle down, gentlemen. All of the available evidence seems to suggest that although Roxas is unsettled, he is not in mortal danger. As long as this is so, it would appear that the safest option is to make Roxas comfortable and observe. Vexen, Zexion, what can be done to ease the symptoms?"

Zexion and Vexen shared a look, each racking their brains for solutions. Zexion offered the only idea he had, hoping Xemnas would be satisfied. "I can continue addressing the symptoms as they arise. My treatment for his nausea seems to work. But if he is going to keep hiding his symptoms from us, we won't be able to do much of anything, and they'll only get worse if ignored."

Xemnas, leaning over the arm of his seat, closed his eyes and pondered the information he had. He did not speak for nearly a minute, and every man present waited on bated breath for his instructions. At last, the Superior opened his eyes and addressed the room at large. "I would like everyone to keep a close watch on Roxas. If he isn't your friend, make him your friend. The more people he feels safe with, the more likely he is to be honest about his condition."

There was a general collection of nods throughout the attendees. Axel did not look up but he was certain he could feel Xemnas' eyes on him, the only person in the room who was open about his friendship with Roxas. "Vexen, Zexion, ensure that he is examined frequently. Saïx, I will leave it up to your best judgment whether or not Roxas will be sent on missions. He is not to be sent anywhere alone. Limit any strenuous activity."

"Yes, sir."

"Let us not allow ourselves to succumb to undue apprehension and make any rash decisions. Roxas has a strong will. I am confident that he will take this in stride with his usual determination, but he will need the support of his comrades. This is a delicate situation, and must be handled with great care."

There was a hush while everyone processed the enormity of the situation, no one willing to break the uneasy silence. When he was satisfied with the resolution, Xemnas concluded the meeting in his usual way.

"Dismissed."

One by one, Organization members vanished into their corridors of darkness, leaving Axel once again staring at the floor lost in thought. Although he could feel Saix's cold gaze upon him, he appreciated that the man was mercifully silent and did not take this opportunity to get under Axel's skin. It took awhile for Axel to decide where he would go from here. He would have to go to work sooner or later. Should he visit Roxas? Should he go back to bed? Not a one of his options appealed to him. Without even looking up to see who else hadn't left, Axel summoned up his own portal and faded into the darkness inside, content to just see where it would take him this time.

* * *

Axel wiped away the sweat pouring down his face as he trudged through the deep sand of the desert with Demyx trailing pretty far behind. The sun's rays beat down on the black leather of their coats, practically cooking them with the heat they generated. Squinting through the bright light and blowing sand, Axel kept an eye on the storm they were tracking. It was enormous, appearing as a giant dust cloud, so thick with wind and sand as to be completely opaque. It rolled ferociously through the bare desert at an alarmingly high velocity, and it was heading straight for Agrabah.

"Ugh, Axel, I'm going to die of heat stroke if we keep walking in the sun like this! Can't we go back to town?"

"The storm we're investigating isn't in town."

"But what if we get caught in it? I've already got sand in my eyes!"

"Just keep your hood up, we're going around the storm so we can see what's on the other side."

Demyx groaned as he dragged his feet along the ground, barely keeping up with Axel. Pitifully out of shape, he huffed and puffed the whole time, surely inhaling sand as he struggled to keep Axel's pace. "Man, why does Saïx send me on missions like this?"

"It's recon, I thought you were good at recon."

"Yeah but this is strenuous recon! I'm all sweaty and gross and my hair is all messed up and quite frankly—"

"Now what is _that_?"

Axel interrupted Demyx's complaining and stopped in his tracks, his eyes fixed on something far off in the distance. It resembled a powerful tornado made entirely of sand, drilling into the ground beneath it and leaving destruction in its wake. Upon closer inspection, Axel could just barely make out clouds of darkness surrounding it.

"It looks like a dust devil. But I've never seen one that big."

"I don't think we're looking at a natural phenomenon. I can see the darkness. We'd better take a closer look."

Demyx, wide-eyed, protested with an incredulous tone. "Are you nuts?! That looks like a death trap!"

"Oh come on, Demyx, I won't let you die to a pile of sand. Now let's go."

Reluctantly, Demyx followed a fair distance away as they made their way toward the spinning tempest. Axel pulled the hood of his coat tighter around his face as the blowing sand swept across his skin. The closer they got to the storm, the more violently the gusts raged. Demyx had resorted to hanging off of Axel's sleeve to keep up, fearing he'd be blown away if he let go.

As they approached the swirling cloud, numerous small shapes became visible, flying in circles through the squall. Axel thought they were birds, but as he examined their movements, it became clear what they were.

"I knew it. Heartless."

They had several sets of wings each, arranged more like an insect than a bird. Every creature had a mean-looking pair of pincers on the front of their faces. There must have been hundreds of them, appearing to be a swarm of giant locusts.

"Ew! They look like huge bugs!"

"Well, let's hope they're as easy to kill."

"What?! We're going in there?!"

"Of course we are, that's part of our orders."

"But you know I'm not—"

"Demyx, shut up and make yourself useful!"

Axel summoned his chakrams and took off at full speed. Demyx hesitated before running after him, knowing that if nothing else, Axel was his only protection from the monsters. As soon as they were spotted, the creatures began flying in for the attack. Axel made a calculated toss of his chakrams to take out multiple enemies at once. Demyx began to cast his water spells with the help of his magic-wielding sitar.

They went down easily, but they seemed to multiply by the second. As the two comrades tried to put a dent in their numbers, they continued to grow until they overwhelmed the men. Through the thickening cloud of sand and flying Heartless, Axel peered around trying to find the source from which they were spreading.

"There's too many of them! They just keep coming, no matter how many we kill!"

"But where are they coming from?"

"I don't know, man! Let's just get out of here!"

"No! We have to find where they're coming from! Cover me, I'm going in for a closer look!"

"Axel! You're gonna get yourself killed!"

Axel was already gone, sprinting toward the center of the storm surrounded by a protective wall of flames. He didn't have to penetrate too deeply before the answer reared its ugly head. Slowly rising from the sand was a massive round mouth, lined with razor sharp teeth. As it emerged, it began to spin with rapidly increasing speed, amplifying the gigantic twister with its powerful rotation.

Axel backed away, taken aback by the size of the creature. He was a capable fighter, but this beast was gargantuan. There was no way he'd be able to take this thing out, even if Demyx contributed to the battle. He raced back toward Demyx's location to regroup, finding him mostly cowering inside a shield of water.

"Axel! It's following us! We're gonna die!"

"We're not gonna die, come on!"

He grabbed Demyx by the wrist and dragged him along as they made their retreat. The flying creatures surrounded them, preventing their escape with their attacks. Both men retrieved their respective weapons and fought through the swarm in a futile effort to clear the way. The thunderous roar of the storm was getting louder as it approached them. Axel turned and gaped in horror as the colossal Heartless fully emerged from the sand, revealing its shape as an enormous centipede. It jumped in and out of the sand with ease as a dolphin would in the ocean. Before they could react, it began swiping at them with a it's gigantic pincers. Axel threw up his chakrams to shield him from the blows, but could only look on helplessly as Demyx made a rookie mistake and crossed his arms in front of his face. The creature sliced through his leather sleeves like butter, sending him flying several feet away where he tumbled on the ground a few times before skidding to a stop.

"Demyx!!"

Axel bolted toward his motionless comrade, shooting fire spells behind him to keep the giant Heartless at bay. When he reached Demyx's position, he found him barely conscious and spilling dark blood into the bright sand.

"Demyx! Can you hear me?"

Demyx opened his eyes, squinting with disorientation. He cast his gaze just behind Axel and croaked breathlessly. "What's… that?"

Axel, following his eyes, turned around and practically jumped out of his skin, startled by what he was seeing. He began to wonder if he'd been hit in the head or was suffering from heat stroke, but as he reached out to touch it, he found that it was indeed real. It was a floating rug, hovering beside them, as if it knew of their plight. The rug fluttered to the ground, seeming to beckon the two men. Preferring to ask no questions, Axel hesitantly rolled Demyx over onto it and squeezed himself beside him. The rug instantly took off toward Agrabah at a frightening speed, arriving in seconds. Finally in the safety of the shaded town's walls, Axel turned and addressed the carpet awkwardly.

"Uh… thanks. You saved our necks."

The rug seemed to wave at them with one of its corner tassels before flying away and out of sight. Speechless, Axel stared into the distance for several seconds, trying to process the strange encounter. His contemplation was soon interrupted by the sound of Demyx moaning, and he quickly knelt beside him as he began to stir.

"Unnnh… Axel, I'm dying…"

"You're not dying. Let me see it."

Axel carefully picked up his arm, inspecting the gashes from the creature's relentless attack. They were ugly, but superficial. He turned the arm about for good measure, confirming that the injury was only skin-deep.

Demyx winced and groaned at Axel's delicate handling. "See? I'm dying!"

"Demyx, it's a scratch."

"God damn, it hurts… if I don't die, I'll probably at least lose the arm… I'll never play the sitar again…"

"Get up, you big baby. We're going home."

Axel stood and tried to pull him to his feet, eliciting an unexpected squeal from him as he fell back to the ground, swatting Axel's hands away.

"What? What's wrong?"

"My leg! It must be broken! Aw man, I'm ruined…"

With a heavy sigh, Axel picked Demyx up off the ground and, slinging him over his shoulder, carried him through the nearby dark corridor he summoned. When he came through the other side and arrived in the Grey Area, he dropped Demyx onto the sofa and began to stretch out his sore joints.

"Good lord, what happened this time?" Saïx approached, peering at Demyx with a repulsed expression. Axel took a moment to respond, still catching his breath and shaking sand out of his hair.

"You were right… it's a Heartless causing the storms. It's monstrous…"

Demyx moaned and writhed pitifully with watering eyes, crying out to them in a panic. "You see what happens when you send me on combat missions?! I almost died!"

"He doesn't look badly hurt."

"Yeah, he isn't. He's just a drama queen."

"Oh, the pain…!"

"Calm down, Demyx. You're fine."

Thankfully, Zexion soon entered the room and quickly approached them, inspecting Demyx's injuries while Axel gave Saïx his report on the mission.

"Hold still, Demyx! You're just going to make it worse if you keep—"

"Zexion! Thank goodness you're here! Tell me I'm going to make it… I don't want to die, I'm too young to die!"

Zexion swiftly finished his examination and addressed Saïx and Axel with his usual clinical tone. "His injuries are superficial. He's going to live."

"Joyous tidings. Get him out of here before he bleeds on the furniture."

"Need a lift?"

Luxord, upon hearing the commotion, sauntered over and offered his superior strength, effortlessly lifting Demyx off the sofa and carrying him out of the room. Saïx sighed with exasperation, pressing his fingers to his forehead as they left.

"He really is useless."

"Hey, now… in his defense, that Heartless was massive."

"Another man down and now I have to figure out who to send to take care of it… I'll be up all night reworking the schedule…"

Saïx meandered away in thought as he muttered to himself. Axel, finally having a moment to mentally process the day's events, began to realize just how tired and sore he was. He would have loved to take a shower and go right to bed, but he'd waited all day to talk to Roxas and now was his chance. He felt his chest flutter with apprehension as he made his way out into the hall, dreading the conversation he knew was coming. A chill washed over his skin as he remembered the meeting from that morning, and he fought off the feeling of foreboding that permeated his mind. With a deep breath, collecting himself and setting aside his anxieties, he made his way toward the one place he knew Roxas would be.


	9. The Burden

"Ow! Stop it! You're hurting me!" Thrashing around on the metal examination table, Demyx jerked his arm away from Zexion's delicate grasp, cradling it close to his chest.

"Demyx, would you just hold still? I haven't even done anything yet."

Zexion gently reached for Demyx's arm again, and Demyx reluctantly extended it for him, wincing at even the lightest touch. Zexion rotated it, inspecting the wound closely for several seconds before releasing it. As Demyx clutched the arm to his chest again, Zexion reached under the table for a large plastic tub.

"Have I lost too much blood? Do I need a transfusion? Do I need stitches? Am I going to have a scar?!"

"Demyx, for crying out loud…"

"What about my leg? It's broken, isn't it? I'll be incapacitated for weeks, right?"

Zexion was across the room, collecting more supplies when he called back to him, growing increasingly annoyed with his hysterics. "You twisted your ankle running away in the sand. It's the most minor sprain I've ever seen. You'll walk out of here tonight."

"It was just supposed to be a recon mission… the thing was huge… it came out of nowhere!"

Demyx gazed at his arm with a devastated expression, as if he were truly heartbroken to have injured such a vital limb. Zexion returned with his supplies and suspended Demyx's injured arm over the plastic tub while wringing out a wet towel.

"Well you're lucky, then, that you came away with such minor injuries."

The second he touched Demyx's arm with the wet towel, the cowardly man yelped and tried to yank his arm back, but Zexion refused to let go this time.

"Ow!! Now what are you doing?!"

"Am I going to have to sedate you just to clean the sand out of it?"

"That would be preferable!"

"Well I'm not going to. Now settle down and let me work."

Zexion poured water over Demyx's arm, and it carried blood and sand along with it as it flowed over his skin and into the tub. Demyx obediently remained still with his eyes squeezed shut, holding his breath with a pained grimace etched on his face. Taking notice of his continued discomfort, Zexion appealed to his patient's sense of logic.

"Demyx, it's water."

"It's cold."

Zexion barely suppressed a chuckle at Demyx's sensitivity. Relieved that he was at least keeping still, he began his second attempt with the towel. Demyx squirmed as Zexion wiped around the edges of his torn flesh, examining the extent of the damage once the sand was cleared away. The cuts weren't very deep, but would still require some stitches. Zexion sighed, having no idea how he'd manage that on such a jittery patient.

Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped into his head. Praising himself for his genius, Zexion rushed to a nearby closet and rummaged around inside for a moment. When he found what he'd been looking for, he quickly returned to the table and handed Demyx a stuffed Moogle plushie.

"Here, Demyx."

"What's this for?"

Without answering, Zexion braced the injured limb to keep Demyx from jerking it away, knowing he had to work fast. Prepared for the worst, he took a breath and emptied a beaker of clear liquid over Demyx's arm. Demyx began squealing and writhing almost immediately, his tears absorbing into the doll's soft fur as he hugged it tightly.

"Argh! That stings!"

"I know. I'm sorry, Demyx." Zexion kept his voice soft and calm in contrast to Demyx's tortured cries. Waiting for the solution to work, he did not relinquish his hold on his arm, no matter how hard Demyx thrashed. "Squeeze the Moogle."

"How could you?! Why didn't you warn me?!"

"It's better this way. Trust me."

"You are _evil_, Zexion!"

"You won't be saying that in a few seconds when it's gone numb. Seriously, squeeze the Moogle."

Sterilized at last, Zexion went to work repairing the injury. Demyx settled considerably as the pain subsided, quieting his pitiful screams and slouching his shoulders as his body relaxed. He looked on with fascination as all the feeling left his arm, surprised to see Zexion touching him but not feeling any of it.

"There, now, that's much better. This is going to go a lot more smoothly now that you're calm. Now, look away, you don't want to watch this part."

Zexion thanked his lucky stars that he still had the stuffed Moogle doll from all those years ago. Master Ansem the Wise had gifted it to him as a child, and for many years, he absolutely could not go to sleep without it. Now grown, he no longer had any use for it, but could never bring himself to let it go. He briefly stole a glance at Demyx, finding it endearing that it brought him comfort even as a grown man. The sight of him clinging desperately to the same doll was — for lack of a better term — heartwarming.

"Well, good news, Demyx. You get to keep the arm." Finished with the stitching, Zexion started wrapping up Demyx's arm with white gauze. Demyx took one look and recoiled in horror.

"It's hideous! I'm a monster!"

"Oh come on, it's not that bad."

"I'm going to end up like Saïx! Or Xigbar! Permanently disfigured!"

Zexion sighed, hiding his smile at Demyx's dramatic exclamations. "You're welcome, Demyx. Now clear out of here and go get some rest."

"I'm keeping the Moogle!"

Demyx defiantly limped to the door, pressing the soft toy to his face. Zexion, watching him with an amused smirk, could think of no one more deserving of the Moogle doll. As long as it was making someone feel better as it had for him, Zexion could comfortably part with it. Demyx stopped short when he reached the doorway, turning back to flash a grateful smile at his the young apprentice. Without a word, his thanks were clearly expressed, and, slightly flushed, he staggered out into the hall, Moogle in tow.

* * *

"Hey, Roxas. I figured I'd find you here."

Roxas neither looked up nor spoke. As his legs hung from the edge of the clock tower, he stared blankly at the colorful sunset, his face unreadable. Axel, treading carefully, seated himself beside his friend as he always did, taking in the sight of the wistfully blowing clouds and the fresh smell of the breeze. Minutes passed without a word before Axel tried to initiate a conversation again.

"So, uh… how was your mission?"

Roxas remained motionless, but at least offered a soft and emotionless response. "Didn't have one today."

Axel tried to lighten the mood, smiling at him and continuing the polite small-talk. "Wow, a day off? Nice! I had to go to Agrabah with Demyx again. I tell ya, with all that heat and sand, I'm gonna need like four showers just to stop feeling gross…"

"I had to be at a meeting today. Saix gave me the day off afterward."

Axel's face fell as he realized what that meeting must have been about. Roxas still hadn't budged, staring intently at the horizon, expressionless and subdued. Axel tried to sift through the noise in his head to find the right words to say, only to come up empty-handed. Roxas pulled up his knees and rested his chin on them, now looking down at the ground below instead of the sky above. After several more seconds of uncomfortable silence, Axel reached out once more.

"Do you… do you want to talk about it?"

Roxas didn't respond right away, battling with himself over what he truly wanted in this moment. On the one hand, Axel was his best friend, and he was certain he could tell him anything. Axel had never failed to make Roxas feel better even in the darkest of times. On the other hand, talking about it would open up the wound all over again, forcing Roxas to face the awful truth a second time. It was more comfortable for now to avoid it, knowing he'd eventually have to address it either way, but was it healthy? Roxas neither knew nor cared. All he really wanted was for this feeling to go away. Axel was his best shot at making that happen.

"Axel… I'm pregnant."

Roxas felt dizzy having to say the words again. His mind cycled through emotion after emotion; fear, anger, humiliation, confusion… there was no end to the spinning. He hoped presenting the news to Axel with no preface or warning would adequately convey the way it felt when it was announced to him, like being hit from behind when you thought you were alone in the room.

"The thing they put in me… it turned into something… they don't know what it is, but it's alive and it's growing…"

Axel could only stare at him with pity and sympathy. He knew this was coming, and he dreaded this very conversation. Now he had a choice to make, whether he should tell Roxas he knew ahead of time or pretend that this was the first he'd heard. He decided on neither for now, choosing not to volunteer anything and let Roxas have the time he needed to talk.

"They said it's attached itself to me… they can't even take it out. They don't know what it's going to do. They're just going to leave it there and see what happens…"

He hugged his knees tighter, the only comfort he could attain being the feeling of his own arms wrapped around himself. Axel, still speechless, averted his eyes to offer Roxas a semblance of privacy. He would soon have to endure enough staring for a lifetime, and Axel had no intention of contributing to that unwelcome scrutiny.

"They said they'll make me as comfortable as they can. They told me that my safety would be their first priority. They promised… that I have nothing to be afraid of…"

Roxas, feeling his throat tighten and his eyes well up, was unable to continue talking. He buried his face in his knees, hiding from Axel as he let the tears fall down his cheeks. Axel, moved by his friend's sorrow, cautiously laid a hand on Roxas' back. Feeling his trembling brought back the painful stabbing sensation in Axel's sternum. He began to feel weighed down by the guilt born of his inaction. He didn't fight hard enough to protect Roxas, and this was the result of his hesitation.

The air was heavy with Roxas' pain and fear, and Axel felt helpless to cut through it and put his friend at ease. The poor kid didn't deserve this. Had he the choice to do so, Axel would have taken Roxas' place without a second thought. Roxas had been through enough. Axel scooted closer to his friend and wrapped an arm around him.

"Roxas… I know there's nothing I could possibly say… but I want you to know that I'm here. No matter what that thing decides to do… I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

It was a long time before Roxas' quiet weeping died down and he could look up at his friend. Axel hadn't moved a muscle, and his warm, protective touch gave Roxas a sense of security. Wiping his face, he smiled at him, relieved to have him around for such a trying ordeal.

"Thank you, Axel. I'm glad you're here."

Axel smiled back, giving him a gentle squeeze around the shoulders. "Hey, what are best friends for?"

* * *

"We gave Roxas the news today."

"And how did he take it?"

"As well as he could, I suppose. I'm not sure he's fully accepted it yet."

"Such courage… His dedication is admirable."

There was an uncomfortable silence as both men processed the situation at hand. No one could have predicted such a catastrophic failure as that which befell Roxas. Xemnas was leaning back in his seat, eyes closed and fingers clasped meditatively. Saïx didn't wish to interrupt his contemplation, but he had come for answers and wouldn't be leaving without them.

"This is quite an interesting turn of events."

"I would tend to agree. We've found ourselves in… quite a pickle."

"Will this new variable change our plans?"

"I am not certain. Sending him to Castle Oblivion could prove either fruitful… or fatal."

Saïx took to staring at the floor as he collected his thoughts. A failure should have meant they would stop the experiment, yet Xemnas allowed it to continue. It didn't make sense. How would they reach their goals now? What did he really want from Castle Oblivion? "Sir… How far we will be allowing this to progress? At what point will we decide the benefits no longer outweigh the risks?"

There was a pause and Xemnas did not respond. Growing impatient, Saïx spoke again with a firm tone. "Sir, for all we know, the entity is hostile, bent on destroying Roxas from the inside out. It could take out the entire Organization next. It appears benign now, but could turn very ugly very quickly and with no warning."

Xemnas glanced at him with a poised smile. "Ah, yes… an echo to Axel's objection. Nevertheless, a sensible one. Unfortunately, this situation is an unknown from every angle. Without knowing what to prepare for, we cannot decide where our boundaries lie."

"Then… We are improvising?"

"Precisely. As of now, the progression seems to be slow enough to allow ample reaction time should something go wrong. We do still need Roxas if this experiment fails. We will not allow him to be lost."

Question after question burned in Saïx's mind. Something already had gone wrong, so why were they not reacting? Why was Xemnas taking such an enormous risk for a failed experiment?

_What are you planning, Xemnas?_

"Understood, sir."

Xemnas softened his voice as he added an update to put Saïx at ease. "I have instructed Vexen and Zexion to find a way to safely sever the connections. Let us hope that they are successful."

Saïx looked up at him, surprised by the conflicting information. Xemnas was very good at hiding his motives, and it would take quite a bit of digging to find them. "I shall keep my fingers crossed."


	10. Smitten

_It just doesn't make any sense!_

Zexion had lost track of the hours he'd spent at his computer, his eyes dry and weary from staring at the screen for so long. He'd poured over his notes again and again but still could not find an answer. Roxas continued to experience symptoms that were consistent with a human pregnancy, and every examination seemed to support such a theory. Everyone was prepared to accept that Roxas was indeed pregnant, as ridiculous as the notion was, but all the pieces of this puzzle were in place but one. No matter what they scanned him with, all images came up blank. Where there should be a picture of a human baby, or any other entity of suitable size and shape to occupy the provided space, there was only emptiness. Test results were full of errors. Physical examinations were inconclusive. The only way they were ever going to get a look at it would be to cut Roxas open and see it for themselves.

Zexion sighed heavily. Of course, that option was off the table, save for a dire emergency. The procedure would be inhumane and possibly dangerous, and neither Vexen nor Zexion had any intention to hurt the boy or the entity he carried. The two scientists continued channeling all of their efforts into modifying their equipment to be able to detect the energy of the being inside Roxas. Unfortunately, these efforts were repaid with nothing but failure after failure.

Zexion pressed his fingers to his temples, closing his eyes to allow them a moment's rest from the bright light of the computer monitor. He'd been at it for so long that all the numbers began to blur together. He had considered that he ought to take a break several times throughout the evening, but he hated showing up empty-handed every morning, turning in useless reports full of fluff and nonsense. He could have written several pages of gibberish and Saïx wouldn't have known the difference either way, but Xemnas was a scientist. Their Superior could not be fooled.

He felt his body beginning to drift away, succumbing to the fatigue, but was startled awake by a voice at the door.

"Zexion! You pulling an all-nighter? I've got coffee!"

Zexion blinked several times, adjusting his eyes to be able to focus on distant targets once again. In the doorway was Demyx, carrying two styrofoam coffee cups.

"Demyx? What are you doing here?"

"_You're_ _welcome_, Zexion." Demyx replied sarcastically as he set one of the cups in front of Zexion's keyboard. He perched himself on top of the desk nearby, quickly chugging the contents of his own cup.

"Uh, thank you." Zexion was about to take a swig of the much-needed coffee when he came to his senses. He eyed Demyx suspiciously, crossing his arms and addressing him in an accusatory tone.

"Demyx. You want something from me. What is it?"

"Come on! Can't I pay a friendly visit to a good buddy? Perform a gesture of kindness for a friend in need?"

"Oh, so we're friends now?"

"Ouch, bro! Right in the feelings!"

Demyx staggered backward, mockingly clutching his chest, but Zexion refused to fall for his antics. He bore no ill will toward the musician, but he rarely knew him to do any favors without expecting something in return.

"Look, if you're here for drugs, you can—"

"Don't be silly! I just came to, ya know, chat! Hang out!"

"In the middle of the night?"

"Why not? You're up."

Zexion, losing his patience for the man's imposition, turned back to his computer. "I'm working, Demyx. Thanks for the coffee."

"All work and no play, dude… You look like you need a break."

Zexion turned to counter his argument when he noticed that Demyx had scooted closer to him. It might have been his tired eyes, but he was also certain the man had unzipped his coat by an inch or two. Taken aback, Zexion slid his chair a few inches away and tried to continue working. He could feel Demyx's eyes on him, and he grew more uncomfortable every second.

"You're distracting me, Demyx. Just tell me what you want."

"Well, all right, if you insist. What I want is you."

Zexion immediately stopped working and gaped at him, unsure that he had heard him correctly. _He's drunk, _he thought to himself. _Drunk off his ass, again. _Though he tried to convince himself that there was no way Demyx was suggesting what he thought he was suggesting, the words were practically written all over the man's face. Finally taking a look at him, Zexion could see the message clear as crystal in his body language.

"Demyx… are you propositioning me?"

Demyx scoffed at his question, repulsed. "You make it sound so clinical. I'm _inviting _you to get your rocks off with me."

Zexion chuckled incredulously at the invitation. He had heard many crazy things come out of this man's mouth over the years, but this outshined them all. He had no idea Demyx had an interest in men, let alone _him. _He glanced at his own disheveled appearance, searching for any feature that might have been appealing in this moment. He sniffed his collar, wondering if he'd perhaps applied too much cologne. He found nothing particularly attractive about himself and couldn't fathom why Demyx wanted anything to do with one of the most repressed members of the Organization right now.

Zexion could concede that he found the offer intriguing, but ultimately decided it would be in both of their best interests to reject him while they still had a decent professional relationship. Hoping for a way to let him down gently, he chose his words carefully.

"I'm… flattered, Demyx. But I'm really not into that sort of thing."

Demyx's face fell slightly with disappointment, but he quickly shrugged it off. "I see. You don't swing that way, huh? I understand. I normally wouldn't either, but—"

"No… no, that's not it. I just… don't really think about it. I'm far more interested in my work, I suppose."

Zexion stroked his chin contemplatively. His greatest love was the acquisition of knowledge. He had always preferred the company of a good book over that of other people, and scientific research and discovery were all the satisfaction he had ever needed. Companionship was quite low on his list of priorities, and the activities Demyx had in mind weren't even on the list at all.

"Come on, Zexion, you're a man! You must have needs?"

"Of course I do. I just don't really acknowledge them."

"You mean you suppress them."

Zexion sighed in exasperation at Demyx's prodding. "Sure, if that's the terminology you wish to employ…"

"When was the last time you tried it?"

Zexion crossed his arms again, loath to answer such a question, especially considering what that answer was. Unfortunately, his silence did all the talking for him.

"Wait… don't tell me… you mean you've never…?"

"Demyx, I don't understand why you've suddenly taken such an interest in my personal life, but it's irritating. Isn't there anyone else you can bother right now?"

"Dude, I'm just looking out for you. Everybody needs to get laid once in awhile. I care about your health, man!"

"Because you're a shining example of healthy living?" Zexion retorted with a smirk.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Demyx had pulled the zipper of his coat down several more inches over the course of their conversation, now exposing a significant portion of his bare chest, which Zexion had all but disregarded. Now, having used his brilliant segue, he pulled the zipper the rest of the way down and let the coat slip off of his shoulders. For someone whom Zexion had always thought was a scrawny addict who preferred to drink his meals, Demyx did have an impressive physique. He was by no means a chiseled Adonis, but he possessed reasonable definition in his musculature, appropriately built for a man of his stature. As his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, Zexion averted his eyes, feigning disinterest.

"Well? Do I pass my physical? Clean bill of health?"

"Good lord, Demyx, cover your shame."

"Aw, don't be a prude, Zexion. Aren't you the least bit curious about what it's like?"

Zexion didn't answer him right away. He had been a mere child when he apprenticed to Ansem the Wise, and not much older when he joined the Organization. Even if he had any interest in sexual gratification, he never had an opportunity to seek it out. By the time his human self would have experienced such urges, he had already surrendered his heart to the darkness. Those urges came anyway as faint echoes that were easy to disregard, and he had diligently ignored them until tonight. Now, the thought of acting upon them and revealing his pitiful lack of experience to someone he had assumed was an expert was intimidating. Zexion was still fully clothed, but had never felt more exposed in his young life.

Perhaps he was fatigued and not thinking clearly, or perhaps he was frustrated with his work and needed to blow off some steam. Whatever the reason, he could admit now that he was indeed curious. Everyone he'd ever spoken to had insisted that it was amazing. Surely it would be worth a little anxiety. As he admired Demyx's silhouette gracefully draped over the desk, he reconsidered the man's proposal. He slid his chair away from the desk and waited nervously to see if Demyx would do anything, hoping that if there was a first move to make, it would be _his_ responsibility.

Thankfully, Demyx took the initiative once he noticed Zexion's forfeiture. He hopped off the desk and sauntered toward the apprentice, who sat completely motionless in his chair. He knelt down at the Zexion's knees, reaching for the zipper of his coat. Zexion tensed up immediately as he dragged the zipper down, frozen in place with anxiety. He shivered as he was slowly freed from the heavy garment, centimeter by centimeter, goosebumps forming on his bare skin. He hadn't expected to be reacting this quickly, surprised by how sensitive he was to even the lightest touch.

He watched, speechless, as Demyx slid his fingers all across his chest and abdomen. It didn't make sense. He'd put on and taken off his coat every day for some ten years now. He'd touched his own skin in these exact places a number of times in his life. Why did it feel so different now? Why was it so… _good?_ When Demyx leaned in close, he flinched at the feeling of warm breath on his neck. He gripped the arms of the chair tightly, holding his breath as chills coursed through his veins.

Demyx giggled softly, endeared by Zexion's nervous disposition and delighted to see the usually calm apprentice's practiced composure falter so easily. "Relax, dude, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Zexion took a breath, then another. "S-Sorry…"

Demyx approached him once more, laying a hand on his knee and gently kissing his neck. Warmth spread from every touch of his lips, as if Zexion's blood had turned to magma. His focus shifted between every new sensation; the slow trickle of sweat on his chest, the gentle brush of Demyx's lips on his skin, the seductive crawl of his hand up his thigh — it was hard to keep up with them all.

Before he could make sense of them, a new sensation joined the fray. It wasn't entirely foreign to him; it had happened before, plenty of times. But knowing that this was the first time anything would be done about it was so enticing that he could barely keep still. That familiar, uncomfortable tightness between his legs was unlike any he'd felt before. It was almost alarming to see it this way, to feel that tension, that ache. He was so wrapped up in how it felt to _want _this that he almost forgot to feel embarrassed or vulnerable.

Demyx tracked his way up the novice's jaw until finally meeting his lips. Zexion had never been kissed before, and was at a loss as to how he should reciprocate. Demyx graciously took the reins, allowing him to sit back and enjoy it. It was rather gentle at first — as if the musician were simply testing the waters. He was slow with his movements, giving Zexion the time to experience them in their entirety. The man was certainly creative with his techniques, boldly introducing his tongue and his teeth. Altogether, it wasn't a bad first kiss. It was wetter than Zexion had imagined. Sloppier. He could certainly tell Demyx had been drinking. But it wasn't unenjoyable.

Zexion was so heavily focused on the kiss that he'd forgotten the playful squeezes to his thigh. He gasped as Demyx's hand ceased its agonizingly slow climb, having finally reached its destination. The intensity was unreal. No one had touched him there before. He hadn't even done so himself. Not like this. For a moment, he wondered if he should regret never exploring himself in this manner, now understanding what he'd been missing. He stiffened further as Demyx's fingers gently grazed between his legs while playfully nibbling the tip of his tongue. The tension was bordering on painful now, and he was soon reaching for the zipper of his pants with shaking hands, desperate for relief.

Mercifully, Demyx pulled away from his mouth to let him breathe while he went to work on his belt for him. He made quick work of sliding his pants out of the way, taking a moment to admire the fully-aroused appendage he'd released from its leather prison. He examined it for awhile, staring with a wide-eyed but unreadable expression. Zexion blushed, his anxieties set in motion as he tried to decipher what the man might be thinking. Was he impressed? Intimidated? Repulsed? Zexion couldn't decide which would have been worse.

It seemed that Demyx approved, since he was soon touching him much more deliberately. He handled it masterfully, causing the apprentice to squirm beneath him. Zexion tried to watch, taking mental notes, learning about himself at the same time. He discovered that some spots were more sensitive than others. Certain places made him twitch and writhe. Every jump in the intensity shocked him. Was it like this for everyone? How could anyone stand it?

Biting his lip and clenching his jaw, he barely stifled a whimper. Taking note, Demyx repeated his motion, and Zexion threw his head back and closed his eyes, panting at the slow pull of his hand. His fingers were strong and dexterous; a testament to his musicianship. Ever the master of improvisation, he effortlessly learned just which spots could raise the hairs on the back of Zexion's neck, and he frequently returned to those spots while exploring him.

"Having fun?"

Zexion was far too breathless to answer. He stared at Demyx in shock, hoping to convey his answer with only his facial expression. He must have understood, since he giggled in response and gave him a playful warning. "Good, 'cause I'm about to kick it up a notch."

Zexion had no time to contemplate what he meant by this, as Demyx had no sooner finished his sentence than he wrapped his lips tightly around him, taking a sizeable portion into his mouth. The pleasure was so intense that it sent jolts through Zexion's body. So surprised was he by the powerful surge of heat and pressure that his torso thrashed and his hips bucked compulsively. He clenched his fists tightly, his chest heaving as he whimpered and moaned at every skillful stroke of Demyx's tongue. He could barely stand to watch. The things Demyx did with his mouth were positively _dirty_, but in this moment, Zexion wished for nothing more than to be scandalized.

At Demyx's mercy, Zexion slowly lost control of his body and mind, gradually succumbing entirely to his carnal desires. Every gasp, every sound, every spasm was an involuntary reaction to the pleasure, completely instinctive and unrestrained. Demyx drank it all in as he greedily devoured the scientist, inch by quivering, throbbing inch. Beads of sweat formed on Zexion's forehead as he fought to control his lust. There was a static inside him that seemed to grow louder and louder with every touch. Awestruck, he watched as Demyx sank his lips ever deeper onto him without missing a beat, thoroughly impressed with his proficiency. The musician cycled through his bag of tricks, each one more sinful than the last, rarely coming up for air.

Zexion could have melted from the heat of his own arousal. His muscles seemed to go numb, and warmth spread from deep within his core to the farthest reaches of his extremities. His usually superior brain had all but shut down — all that occupied his mind now were obscene, bestial thoughts and raw desire. He used to think himself above this primal nonsense, but now he couldn't get enough of it. That static inside him had reached a deafening volume, screaming for release from the very depths of his being. He reached for Demyx, needing to touch him, any part of him he could get his hands on. Demyx gleefully obliged, rising to his feet and pulling Zexion up along with him.

The two stood there in the dark lab for several minutes just caressing each other by the light of the computer screens. Demyx planted kisses all over Zexion's neck and chest, backing him into the desk and pressing his body firmly into him. Intimidated, Zexion froze in place as Demyx overpowered him in his weakened state. He supposed the man was trying to take the encounter to its next logical step. Of course, this was what he'd come here for. Zexion figured he was being given an extremely obvious signal to do something, but could only stare, unsure how to move things along. Demyx, displaying remarkable patience with the rookie, took his hands and guided them to his own belt buckle. Zexion recognized his cue at last and obeyed the silent command, removing Demyx's remaining clothes with trembling hands, nervously averting his gaze from the man's groin. In response, Demyx gently turned his face by the chin, forcing the young apprentice to look at the newly-disrobed musician.

"So timid. What are you afraid of?" He whispered seductively in a voice Zexion had never heard from him. He now spoke with a deep and raspy tone, completely different from his normal speaking voice. His eyes narrowed with curiosity at Zexion's apprehension.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about…"

Demyx laced his fingers through Zexion's hair and, with a sharp tug, drew him closer, grinding his bony hips against him. Zexion gasped at the sudden pain from his powerful grip, surprised to find that he had actually enjoyed it.

"You can't fool me, Zexion. I'm smarter than I look."

Zexion sighed, unable to articulate his disorganized thoughts, distracted by Demyx's lean figure nudging into his pelvis. In truth, he was terrified, but struggled to understand just why. He was familiar enough the mechanics of what was to be done. He was aware of his position and where his placement would be and how things were going to be accomplished. In technical terms, he had it all figured out, yet he still felt completely lost. He experienced no anxiety over performing the act itself, as a man might feel if he lacked the necessary confidence to satisfy his partner. Or perhaps he did. He didn't suppose he suffered from any of the typical first-time jitters one might feel when young and inexperienced. Or perhaps he did. Being without a heart, he couldn't fathom why he felt anything right now.

"Demyx… to put it simply, I don't know what I'm doing."

After a split second of processing Zexion's response, Demyx laughed out loud. "Is that all?! Nerves?! Come on, dude, I'm not expecting you to change my life. I'm just here to blow a load and go to sleep. No strings, no pressure. Now chill out, will ya?"

Zexion was silent, absorbing Demyx's words and appreciating the logic of his argument. He had a good point — he knew what he was getting into when he seduced Zexion, of all people. If Demyx wanted someone with experience, he would have chosen another partner. Shocked by how easily Demyx could calm his nerves, Zexion smiled with gratitude. At least he'd be taken care of.

Wasting no time, Demyx pinned him by the wrists onto the cold metal desk, kissing him eagerly in an attempt to restore the steamy atmosphere. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe Demyx was lousy his first time, too. It eased Zexion's mind to see how attentive the man was being. Demyx pulled away from the kiss for a moment and Zexion settled on his back, just breathing. And breathing. And _breathing_. He tried not to look at Demyx, unsure if he wanted to know the man's size, but his curiosity got the better of him and he stole a brief glance.

Although Demyx was not disproportionately large — much to Zexion's relief — he was by no means small. Zexion swallowed hard, trying not to stare. The musician was touching himself, coating his skin with a slick gel. _That's nice of him, _Zexion thought. _How considerate._ Of course it was probably necessary. Zexion had almost forgotten the small detail that was almost always mentioned when discussing sex — the first time hurts. He gulped. When Demyx had finished, the apprentice got his first unobstructed look at it and recoiled slightly. That was the moment that it hit him, and he felt himself clench with anticipation.

"You're adorable," Demyx chuckled, climbing onto the desk and settling between his knees. "Calm down, man, I'm gonna go slow."

He advanced on the young scientist with his hips, prodding at him impatiently as he traced his fingers up and down Zexion's pulsing erection. Trapped in place, Zexion squirmed desperately as he clasped around him with a strong grip. The friction of each stroke was nearly unbearable, and he struggled, whimpering breathlessly, against the restraints imposed by the musician's powerful body. If nothing else, this welcome treatment would distract him from the pain he knew was coming. He closed his eyes, trying to force himself to relax and accept it. It wasn't working. He didn't know how to manipulate these muscles consciously. He couldn't even tell where they were.

He tensed further as he felt Demyx solicit him again with more urgency. The man was gentle and patient as he waited for the apprehensive novice to yield. Gliding his hands along Zexion's glistening torso, he leaned down and circled his tongue around his nipples, brushing his lips over them with the lightest touch. Zexion shuddered at his precision, emitting a soft, shakey moan as he felt his locked muscles release. His eyes widened, and he trembled with excitement. He wasn't ready. But he was. He wanted it. Nerves or not, he wanted it. He spread his thighs to accommodate Demyx's presence, offering himself to the dominating musician.

His submission set Demyx in motion, and with considerable restraint, he gently eased himself inside. His penetration was slow and deliberate, careful to handle the fragile apprentice delicately. In an instant, Zexion had confirmed everything he'd heard about this. All those people who had described their first time were right. It hurt. It hurt more than he thought it would. Wincing for every centimeter he inserted, Zexion accepted Demyx with determination, enduring the pain with watering eyes and gritted teeth. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut as he took in the entire length of him, until finally the motion ceased and he was given time to adjust.

Demyx, clenching his fists with the effort of remaining still for Zexion's sake, bent down to press his lips into his neck. "It's in," he whispered. "You okay?"

It was when he tried to answer that Zexion realized he wasn't breathing. "I'm… Yes. It…"

"Hurts?"

"Yes," his tone was strained. "It's just new. I'll be fine…"

The smile Demyx flashed him was surprisingly soft, almost sympathetic in nature. "It'll stop. I promise. You're gonna have fun, too."

_He's so thoughtful. _Demyx didn't move for several minutes, doting on him with all the kisses and caresses he could manage from such a position. Zexion could see how desperately the man wanted to continue, yet he stayed in place just to make him more comfortable. It was shocking how gentle he could be. Zexion had never seen this side of him, and was pleased with the introduction.

The pain had mostly cleared away, and Demyx finally began with slow, repetitive motions as he rocked his hips into him. It wasn't bad. It was quite different, maybe even weird, but not bad. He could at least tell that Demyx was enjoying himself. The look on his face was so intense that Zexion had to look away, fearing that the man's stare would pierce right through his forehead. But seeing the longing in his eyes gave him a chill, and in Demyx's moment of vulnerability, he reached behind the musician and dug his fingernails into the clammy flesh of his back, clawing at him in an expression of desperate yearning. Demyx promised he would have fun, and Zexion was more than ready to do so.

His enthusiasm broke Demyx's hold, and with a loud grunt from both men he reared back and thrust himself into Zexion as far as he could reach. The pain was intense, but the pleasure even more so. It was unexpected - a deep, powerful sensation inside him that he'd never felt before. It activated something just beneath the surface of his skin, that same static that built in his muscles, fizzling out of control. Demyx knew what he was doing. Whatever spot that was, Demyx knew how to get to it, and Zexion lost himself a little more every time it was touched.

He let his head drop onto the desk as Demyx picked up the pace. The heat from their bodies had begun to fog up the smooth brushed metal of the desk's surface. The dim glow of the computer screens cast graceful shadows over their pale skin. For quite some time, neither man said a word, their minds and mouths occupied with their shared end goal. The only sounds in the room were the soft whir of the computers, the shuffling of the papers and equipment on the desk, and the moans and heavy breathing from the two.

Zexion continued to surprise himself as he discovered the depths to which his libido reached. He would never have guessed that buried under the facade that was his composed, professional demeanor lay a ferocious appetite for physical gratification. Demyx grew more animalistic as the encounter drew on, thrusting fervently into his writhing form. The pain had gone and been replaced with an ecstasy to which nothing could compare, and his head was swimming from the high. The pleasure moved through him in waves, crashing at his core and sending him soaring. Never before had he been so consumed by pure wanton lust that he lost himself in bliss. He sincerely hoped that no one outside the lab could hear him.

As Demyx laid into him, the sensual roll of his hips grinding against him, the apprentice became aware of a peculiar vibrating sensation building inside him. That static. It was getting louder. There was a mounting pressure in his pelvis, like an over-filled balloon threatening to pop. It spread through his body in rippling spasms, with not one muscle left untouched. It was intense. It was frightening. Was this…? He recognized this feeling immediately. Panicking, his mind filled with questions. Did he have to do anything? Would it just happen on its own? Should he fight it away to prolong the encounter? Should he announce the occasion or remain silent? Should he close his eyes or leave them open?

"Demyx… I think I'm—!"

"Shh, don't talk. You'll ruin the moment."

It was clear that Demyx knew what was happening, as he fixed his gaze on Zexion's face, watching him intently as he increased the speed and intensity of his thrusts. The spasms in Zexion's body grew more violent every second as the pressure continued to build. His chest pounded and his breaths turned heavy. His hips bucked and his legs convulsed. His back arched and his eyes widened. Time had run out, and he scolded himself for becoming momentarily distracted by his anxiety. It was too good to be afraid of it. He closed his eyes and let go, hoping he would find his way back to the ground after the flight.

The static burst with a chilling burn through his body. The pressure grabbed him and dragged him away into pure euphoria. With an explosive shout, the waves crashed violently in his center as the pressure finally released with a forceful shooting sensation. Every muscle clenched enormously as he let himself be overwhelmed by the blinding ecstasy, the warmth washing over him until he could drown in it. His climax was accompanied by a series of sonorous moans and cries of delight, and he twitched and spasmed for several seconds while the intensity faded. Gradually, the forceful squeezing in his muscles released and he collapsed onto the desk, panting and soaked. In shock, he lay motionless and silent as the realization of what had just happened flooded into his mind. So _this_ was what an orgasm felt like. _This_ was why people bothered with sex. His eyes, once blind, were opened. Now he understood. He understood with perfect clarity.

Demyx chuckled as he watched the newcomer melt into a puddle beneath him, satisfied with his work. "Heh… Feel better?"

Zexion, still speechless, could only stare wide-eyed at the man, completely at a loss. He lacked the energy required to even just lift his head or move a single limb. His vision was still blurred with sweat, and his mind still spun with the chaos of his climax. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words emerged.

"Need a tissue, dude? Looks like you need the whole box."

Zexion looked down at his torso, covered in a sticky substance, the product of their coupling. He stared in disbelief at the tremendous volume he had managed to produce.

_What a mess… _

He propped himself up on his elbows, inspecting the damage as the fog in his mind began to clear. He was unsure of what should happen now. Was he supposed to say something? What does one say after an encounter such as this? "Demyx—"

"Hey, whatever you do, don't thank me. Thanks are classified under 'making it weird.' Don't make it weird."

Zexion chortled at Demyx's joke before finishing his interrupted thought. "I believe… now, it's your turn?"

Demyx stiffened with excitement at Zexion's reminder. A surge of arousal flashed in his eyes, pleasantly surprised to hear that Zexion wanted to keep going. "Whoa! All right, baby, round two. Turn over."

Demyx removed himself from Zexion just long enough for him to assume the position requested of him. He entered the apprentice once more, pulling him in by the hips as he plunged into him. He went at a moderate pace, careful not to injure the freshly deflowered scientist. Zexion, now on his knees, pressed his forehead into the desk as he received Demyx's enthusiastic thrusts. There was pain again, as he felt Demyx reaching even deeper inside of him, but the pleasure only intensified with this new orientation. He was surprised to see that he'd maintained his aroused state, even so long after he had finished. He could have sworn he'd read that once the climax was over, that was the end. Could he possibly be capable of a second one?

Demyx must have also taken notice of Zexion's persistent hardness, as he reached around him to grasp it tightly. The intensity struck him once again, so strong that his whole body twitched violently. The sensitivity had increased to where just a brush of his fingertips was far too much, but Demyx mercilessly squeezed Zexion until he saw stars, delighting in his agonized reactions. He throbbed powerfully between his palm and fingers, so intensely pleasurable that it took his breath away, but still, Demyx did not let go. Zexion's face contorted with pain and pleasure, and he grunted loudly as he enthusiastically welcomed Demyx into him.

Demyx gradually accelerated until he audibly clapped against Zexion's backside. He was almost feral in how roughly he handled the young novice, digging into his supple flesh, yanking his hair until his scalp ached, and throwing a series of playful smacks to his behind. The pleasure was astounding, and Zexion could already feel the familiar spasms returning. Unable to contain himself, he replaced Demyx's hand with his own, bringing himself over the edge almost instantly. Demyx took him by the shoulder and pulled him upright, pressing into his back as he drove into the writhing apprentice.

A rush of euphoria spilled over him once more and he exploded a second time with a dizzying intensity. The strength of his subsequent climax carried him away, and he endeavored to make a show of it for Demyx's benefit. He wore his throat out from his breathless moaning, rolling his hips on Demyx's lap and firing his second shot halfway across the room.

Demyx leaned in and sank his teeth into Zexion's nape. "I'm gonna come."

This was something Zexion had put no thought into. He supposed it would feel better for Demyx to finish inside him. After everything he'd done, he deserved that much, and there would be a mess either way. But what would it feel like? Would it be pleasurable? Would it be gross? "Okay," he answered, winded. "Sh-Should I do something?"

Demyx snickered against his shoulder, tightly digging his fingers into his waist. "Say my name."

Zexion arched an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Demyx repeated himself more urgently. "Say my name, Zexion."

It was such a simple request. An odd one, but simple. But still Zexion froze, unsure why it seemed so difficult in the moment. Thankfully, Demyx prompted him with a deep, impatient thrust, so shocking that Zexion could not help but gasp his name, quietly enough to be intimate, loudly enough to be impassioned. "Demyx…!"

His performance triggered Demyx's peak at last. Wrapping his surprisingly powerful arms around Zexion and pulling him closer, he threw all of his weight into his last few thrusts. He finally came into Zexion with a string of deep, raspy grunts. The sounds he made were so arousing that Zexion feared he'd never go flaccid again. Demyx was climaxing and it was all because of _him. He _brought him to that climax. _He_ had made this man feel such pleasure that he lost all control. Zexion could feel it - all of it. It was strange. It was warm. It was oddly satisfying. He could certainly get used to it.

Demyx finally slowed to a stop as the pulsing died down. As soon as he vacated Zexion, they both collapsed onto the frigid tile floor, panting. Neither man was able to move or speak for several minutes. Zexion lay on his side, letting his mind spin as it tried to process the evening's events. There was so much information, he didn't know where to begin. He learned that he could be attracted to men. He learned how he liked to be touched. He learned what sex - _real, adult sex_ felt like. He learned how it felt to come and come _hard. _Most surprising of all, he learned about Demyx. Drunk or not, Demyx found him attractive. Demyx had a gentler, more seductive side that perhaps only Zexion had seen. Zexion learned how to bring him to the same heights. His thoughts didn't slow down for a moment, but he settled on one conclusion that made something in his chest leap with the thrill of it. Zexion learned what it was like to be wanted. He learned that Demyx wanted him. And he learned that he wanted Demyx.

Demyx leaned against the wall, struggling to keep his eyes open. He managed to catch his breath after a short time and called out to the apprentice in a humorous tone. "Yo, Zexion, you gonna live, buddy? How do you feel?"

Zexion, completely drained of energy, remained still and silent, having failed to slow his breathing at all.

"Speechless, huh? Am I that good?"

As Demyx rose to re-dress himself, Zexion finally caught his breath enough to give Demyx the most appropriate response he could think of. "Don't make it weird."

* * *

The longer Axel battled with his chronic bouts of insomnia, the earlier morning seemed to come each day. He lamented his situation, pining for the languid, restful man he used to be. So great was his love for sleep that he could spend hours, even days in dreamland, but now he struggled to rest for even twenty minutes at a time on most nights. He wished he could understand why, considering Roxas had long since recovered and was in relatively good health and better spirits. There was simply nothing left to keep him awake.

Now, in the early hours of the morning, he attempted to wake himself up as he lounged on the sofa to wait for Roxas. Being one of the first few to enter the Grey Area, Axel took the opportunity to people-watch as the rest of his comrades sleepily trickled in, yawning and rubbing their eyes. Saïx stood looking out the window with a blank expression, as usual. The scene was just like any other morning for Organization XIII.

Thinking it must be too early for his fellow members to engage in social interaction, Axel decided he'd bite the bullet and go obtain his mission briefing. Just as he was about to rise from the sofa, he glanced up to see Zexion enter the room, looking surprisingly sleepless and unkempt. _Now we're talking, _he thought to himself, eager to hear about what sort of night Zexion must have had to make him look so uncharacteristically disheveled today.

"Good morning, Zexion! How are— whoa. You look terrible. Rough night?"

Zexion trudged to a nearby chair, wincing as he slowly lowered himself into it. "You could say that."

Axel leaned closer to him, intrigued. "Didn't sleep?"

Zexion had lowered his head in his hands, pressing his fingers into his forehead and rubbing away an apparent headache. "I had work to do."

_Work, huh? _"What a good little teacher's pet you are. All for the good of the cause!"

"Piss off, Axel."

"Touchy! I'm just messing with you, man. I know what you were really up to."

Zexion's head shot up at these words. He stared at Axel, his already pale face turning an even lighter shade of white. "Wh-What do you mean?"

Axel chuckled lightly at his plight. "Come on, it's written all over your face. You got laid, dude! I'm so happy for you!"

"Shh! Will you keep it down—!"

"Gosh, they grow up so fast… So, who was it?"

Zexion's face flushed at Axel's prying, shifting uncomfortably in his chair with a flustered expression. "It was a good book. Now lay off me."

Axel shook his head with a playful grin, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "All right, all right, it's none of my business. I'll just be over here, watching everybody walk in and see which one makes your hair stand up."

Zexion heaved an exasperated sigh with his face in his palms. Axel, hoping to spread some cheer his way, lightened his tone and backed off on his humor, not wishing to seriously upset the young apprentice.

"Hey man, I'm only playing. Don't be mad. Whoever it was must be pretty good, 'cause it looks like they rocked your world. I'm jealous!"

"Is it really so noticeable?"

"Only to pros like me," Axel assured him. "To everyone else, you just look like you haven't slept in a week. And ran a marathon on your way here."

"I think I'll go back to bed."

"Ha! Take me with you! It's gotta be my turn some time right?"

"See you later, Axel."

With noticeable difficulty, he lifted himself out of the chair, wincing again. After taking a moment to steady himself, he stiffly traipsed back to the doorway and disappeared into the hall, passing by Roxas on his way out. Roxas, looking sluggish but content, approached Axel with a warm smile.

"'Morning, Axel."

"Roxas! Good morning! How are you today?"

Roxas sat beside Axel on the sofa, crossing his arms in front of him and absentmindedly glancing around the room. "I'm alright. How about you?"

"Only fantastic today. Did you sleep good?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Hey, what was up with Zexion?"

Axel shrugged with a puzzled expression. "Says he doesn't feel good today. I'm betting he just stayed up all night working and now he's given himself a migraine."

Roxas responded with an understanding nod. "That's too bad."

"Happens to the best of us. So, ready to go see what our mission's gonna be today?"

"Sure. Let's go."

Roxas took a few moments to maneuver himself off the sofa. Axel eyed him curiously, but figured it would be best not to ask questions and hopped up to join him on their way over to get their mission briefing from Saïx. As expected, he addressed them with an attitude just slightly above contempt, listing off the details of their mission with a bored tone before sending them on their way.

"And Roxas… do not overexert yourself. We wouldn't want you getting hurt in your condition."

Roxas, irritated with Saïx's false concern and unnecessary coddling, returned to the sofa without looking back at him. He loathed being treated as if he were fragile, like some delicate porcelain doll threatening shatter if one so much as blew on him. He despised how people walked on eggshells around him now, performing their poorly-rehearsed displays of caring and compassion, wearing human emotions like masks that they removed as soon as he was out of earshot. Most of all, he hated the new reality of his physical limitations and he hated having attention drawn to them, and Saïx knew that quite well.

Axel hurried over to Roxas, taking his place on the sofa beside him while trying to think of something to say to cool down his friend's anger. "Roxas… don't let him get to you. Remember, he's following orders from Xemnas, too—"

"It's fine. I get it. It'd be a shame to break the new lab rat."

"Roxas…"

"Really, Axel, I'm fine. Let's just go."

Defeated, Axel dropped the conversation and was just getting up to leave when he was suddenly approached by Demyx.

"Yo! Axel! 'Morning, dude!"

"Uh… hey, Demyx. You're unusually chipper this morning. What's up?"

"Man, I've got this wicked hangover. You seen Zexion? He's gotta have _something_ for this headache…"

Axel peered at him quizzically, stroking his chin as he contemplated the odd request. Demyx's hangovers were a regular occurrence, and Axel knew all too well what they looked like on him, but today he appeared perfectly fine. His skin glowed and his eyes sparkled brightly, with no trace of pain, illness, or fatigue in any of his features. In fact, he almost looked _happy. _It wasn't long before the pieces clicked into place and a lightbulb flicked on in Axel's head. With a mischievous grin, he patted Demyx on the shoulder as he drew out his answer. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry, Demyx! You just missed him! He said he didn't feel well and was going back to bed. And let me tell you, he looked positively _wrecked._"

Demyx, slow on the uptake, gasped with concern for the young apprentice. "Aw man, you mean he's sick?"

Axel wrapped an arm around his shoulders, feigning pity and sympathy in an over-the-top performance. "Oh goodness, yes. _Very _sick. I tell you, that poor boy could barely walk! Oh, the suffering…!"

Demyx gaped at Axel with confusion for a few seconds before the message between the lines became clear for him. His puzzled expression slowly shifted to one of delight as he played along with Axel's short drama. "Oh my! How dreadful! I guess I should leave him be, then, if he's so frightfully ill…"

"What a shame it would be if you were to succumb to the same wretched plague! Bless his heart, I hope he survives this…"

"Well, golly gee, maybe I should go and check on him? Just to make sure he's still alive?"

"Oh, Demyx, you brave soul, risking your own health for the sake of your brethren. So charitable and kind! They just don't make gentlemen like you anymore…"

They both collapsed into hysterical laughter, to the questioning and suspicious looks of the other members who witnessed their impromptu comedy. When they managed to catch their breaths, Demyx turned to head back out into the hall, wrapping up the show with Axel.

"Well, I'd better hurry, I may already be too late!"

"Do bring him my regards, dear friend! Safe journey!"

The two fist-bumped and Demyx took off out of the room while Axel dramatically waved. When he was gone, he turned around to look for Roxas so that they could leave. Saïx was staring at him with his same cold expression, clearly confused and annoyed by the presentation he had just witnessed. He opened his mouth to speak, prepared to interrogate Axel about the obnoxious display, but hesitated and closed it again, resigning himself to letting his curiosity go unsatisfied.

"... on second thought, I don't want to know. Proceed with your mission."

Axel giggled as he returned to the sofa, offering a hand up for Roxas.

"What was that all about?"

Axel summoned up a corridor to darkness and gestured for his friend to enter with a sly smile. "I'll tell you when you're older."


	11. Thin Skin

It was growing more and more difficult for Roxas to drag himself out of bed in the morning. He was certain that he was sleeping through the night, yet always awoke feeling more tired than when he went to sleep. The iciest of cold showers could not rouse him from his exhaustion. As he pulled on his clothes, he struggled slightly to zip his coat, as if he'd gained weight. He tried to remember if Zexion had mentioned any side effects of the medicine he was given for his nausea, but none came to mind. He considered that perhaps he was just bloated. Too much ice cream.

Walking slightly hunched over to conceal the odd swelling, he traipsed into the Grey Area to get his mission briefing from Saïx, hoping nobody would notice his change in shape. As soon as he entered the room, Demyx came to meet him, looking far more bubbly and energetic than he usually was at this time of day.

"Roxas! 'Morning! You're with me today!"

"'Morning, Demyx. Where are we going?"

"Agrabah! It's just heart collection, thank goodness."

"All right… Let me know when you're ready."

"Are you kidding? I'm never ready! Wake me up when you're leaving, dude. I'll be on the couch."

As Demyx meandered lazily toward the sofa, Roxas considered looking around for Zexion to ask about the swelling, but decided against bringing it up, lest he get pulled from his mission for the day. He searched instead for the ever familiar head of brick red hair, supposing he had beaten Axel there today when he didn't see it. He was about to grab Demyx and head out when he heard his name.

"Roxas!" He turned at the sound of Axel's voice, glad to get the chance to see him before he left for the day. His friend approached him and discreetly handed him a bottle of cold water. "Hey, buddy. Take this with you, alright? Agrabah is hot as hell and you might get dehydrated—"

"Did Saïx put you up to this?"

Axel scratched his head and averted his eyes hesitantly before relenting. "Okay, yes, he did. But I'm pretty sure he is taking the advice from Vexen and Zexion. Don't shoot the messenger."

"Fine. Thanks, Axel."

"See you later, man!" Axel took off toward Vexen, who he would be joining for a recon mission in the new world the Organization had been investigating. Roxas headed for the sofa to collect Demyx and leave for their mission when Saïx came forward with his own advice.

"Roxas. Be careful. The sun is rather relentless, and the sand can be quite abrasive in Agrabah… and Demyx has such sensitive skin. Do keep an eye on him."

Roxas smirked at his warning, surprised to hear such a humorous remark out of him, especially so early in the morning. "Heh… Got it, Saïx. Demyx, let's go."

"Right behind you."

Roxas disappeared into his dark corridor but Saix caught Demyx before he could follow. "Demyx," He had Demyx by the arm and spoke under his breath with a fierce tone of voice. "I can't think of a task easier than 'Keep Roxas Alive,' but if anyone is sure to screw it up, it's you. Prove me wrong today."

Demyx sighed, refusing to answer him until he was released from his grasp. Saïx stared him down with a menacing glare, tightening his grip, but Demyx glared right back, refusing to be intimidated by the likes of him. Growing tired of their pointless game of chicken, he jerked his arm away and trudged through the portal without another word.

Even in the early hours of the morning, the sun was already frying the pair as they took their first steps into the sands of Agrabah. Sweat poured down Roxas' back in seconds, and his skin began to burn from the heat. He pulled up his hood as he waited for Demyx to follow him. Demyx soon came through the portal, wiping his forehead and shielding his eyes.

"Ugh, I hate sweating. Let's make this quick."

"Are you actually going to help this time?"

"Hey, my mission is just to make sure you don't die. But if it will get us home faster, then yes."

"Then let's go."

They began their search in the immediate area, ambushed by small-time Heartless every few feet they stepped. Roxas made quick work of taking them out before Demyx could even react. As soon as he'd cleared an area, he moved on to the next, defeating the creatures as they materialized out of the darkness. Over the next few hours, they combed the town, exterminating the monsters with ease, but Roxas couldn't help but notice that they were rather small in number. Previous reports had mentioned a sizeable population in the area, so where were they?

As they continued their search, the sun rose higher in the sky, blanketing the two in sweltering heat. Roxas had long since emptied the water bottle he was given, and the dry air only amplified his dehydration. He began to feel winded and slightly dizzy, but pressed onward with determination. Rather than stop to rest, forcing them to remain in the gritty, burning hellhole for any longer than necessary, Roxas endeavored to finish the job quickly so they could go back to the castle and cool off.

Demyx had noticed Roxas beginning to slow down and suggested they stop several times, but Roxas insisted each time that he didn't need a break. After awhile, they stopped encountering Heartless altogether when it was still too early to call it a day. Demyx grew excited at the prospect of getting to return early, eagerly appealing to Roxas to call off the search.

"Well, it's been half an hour since we've seen a Heartless. Guess that's all of them!"

"Let's check outside of town."

Demyx's eyes widened at the suggestion. "What? Roxas, we're supposed to stay in town."

"I have a quota to meet and I'm nowhere near it. Let's just look outside the town and see if there are any more Heartless out there."

"Come on, dude, now you're just looking for extra work…"

Roxas gave Demyx a stern look as he summoned his keyblade and made his way toward the town's entrance gate. "Demyx, if your job is to make sure I don't get hurt, then you'd better follow me and make sure I don't get hurt."

Demyx reluctantly followed Roxas outside the town's walls and into the windy desert. The sand was deeper and more difficult to trek through, but Roxas lead the way as they set off. His fatigue only intensified with the motion of the gusts around them and the blinding light of the sun seared through their coats without the protection of the town's walls. He pulled his hood tighter around his face, guarding against the sand as he panted breathlessly. In the distance, he could see what appeared to be a thick cloud of dust swirling about.

"Is that the storm? The one you guys have been tracking?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, it's pretty nasty. We should stay back."

Roxas squinted against the blowing sand as he continued in the direction of the storm. His attention was quickly drawn to its center, where he could just barely make out what looked like a tornado, surrounded by hundreds of small flying shapes. As they neared the tempest, despite Demyx's protests, he could see that the flying specks were creatures of some sort, black, winged and ugly. They didn't look like any animal Roxas had ever seen. They could only be Heartless.

"What's that? Way out in the distance?"

"Oh crap, Roxas stay away from there! That's the giant Heartless that's been causing the sandstorms. We're not supposed to go near it!"

Roxas couldn't see the giant Heartless, but the smaller creatures seemed like easy pickings. He'd make his quota in no time if he kept his distance and targeted them instead. "But it's got a swarm of smaller Heartless around it. I can handle those."

"Roxas, I'm serious, look at my arm. That thing is vicious!"

"I'll be fine, Demyx. Cover for me, I'm going in."

Roxas, wasting no time waiting for Demyx's approval, took off toward the center of the dust cloud, keyblade at the ready. The creatures began to circle him, and he effortlessly eliminated them by the dozen. To his surprise, they seemed to multiply the more he eradicated. Demyx called out to him, begging him to return. "Roxas!! Stop! Come back!"

Unable to convince Roxas to leave, Demyx ran in after him, preparing his sitar to assist in the battle. He cast a shield of water around Roxas from afar as the swarm closed in on him. "See, Roxas?! The more you kill, the more it sends out!"

Roxas continued to fight, each swing of his keyblade taking substantial energy to carry out. He struggled to maintain his balance in the deep sand, wavering as it shifted beneath his feet. The Heartless began to overwhelm him, obscuring his vision as they surrounded him in thick masses. Demyx was casting water spells left and right but could not reduce their numbers by himself.

"Roxas, watch out! Behind you!"

With his limited visibility, Roxas couldn't see the gargantuan beast emerging from the sand until it was too late. He turned around just in time to see an enormous pincer coming straight for him at full speed, far too quick for him to react. Before he realized what had happened, he was on the ground, coughing and unable to breathe.

"Roxas!!"

His chest ached and he could feel excruciating stabbing sensations in his abdomen. He tried desperately to inhale, taking in copious amounts of sand as he did so. He could feel Demyx's hands on his shoulders as he choked and sputtered. Everything grew dark for a moment, leading Roxas to believe he'd passed out, but the light soon returned to his vision, and the violent squall was gone. Demyx had taken them through a corridor of darkness, transporting them back to town.

"Shit… Roxas, can you hear me? Talk to me, man!"

Roxas tried to answer but still couldn't draw breath. He hacked and gagged on the sand that had collected in his throat, clutching at his middle to quell the shooting pains radiating from his sternum to his navel.

"Roxas, are you hurt? Did it hit you?"

Roxas began to feel faint as he succumbed to the lack of air. His stomach heaved as he swallowed the sand he'd taken in, and his face flushed red with the strain of his struggle for breath. Finally he managed to cough up enough sand to create a small opening in his windpipe, allowing him to put some force behind his efforts to expel the rest from his body.

"Whoa, easy, dude! Are you alright? Can you breathe?"

Demyx, panicking, beat on Roxas' back in a misguided attempt to relieve his choking. As Roxas replenished his air, he groaned with pain, wondering just how badly he'd been injured by the gigantic creature. He tried to speak, but couldn't manage a single word.

"Okay, hang in there, buddy, I'm taking you home! Don't you die on me, Roxas!"

Demyx rose to his feet and materialized a dark portal, quickly dragging Roxas through and returning them instantly to the castle. Roxas, still feeling faint, let his eyelids droop in a daze as the room spun around him. Demyx shouted at him from over his head as he laid him on the mercifully cool floor of the Grey Area.

"No, no you don't Roxas! Stay awake, man! Open your eyes!"

"Demyx, what the hell happened?!"

"I don't know! It was so quick! I can't tell if he got hit or if he just collapsed!"

"Roxas, speak! What ails you?" He could see the shapes of bodies kneeling over him. Saïx's blue hair was easily recognizable, and Roxas could barely croak an answer for him as he tried to sit upright.

"I'm fine…"

"Are you injured? Don't try to move."

"Really, I'm okay…"

The last thing Roxas wanted was to scare Saïx into making a hasty decision to punish the both of them, but he failed to convince the man that he was unhurt. Roxas could feel hands all over him, poking at him and searching for injuries. He winced as he felt fingers prodding at his chest and abdomen, grunting with what little breath he had left at the sharp sting. His coat was unzipped, exposing his bare torso and eliciting gasps from the figures around him.

"Damn it, you had one job, Demyx!"

"I tried to stop him! He took off after the giant Heartless!"

"And you let him leave town?!"

"It's not his fault… I went after it…" Roxas tried to defend Demyx, but entered into another fit of coughing as more sand fell into his throat, desperately gasping for air, only to hack and retch even harder.

"Demyx, go and get Zexion, now!"

"What's wrong…?" Roxas began to tremble, suddenly feeling cold despite the persistent sweat on his skin.

"You're going to be fine. Lie still."

"I'm tired… Can't breathe…"

"Look at me, Roxas. Keep your eyes open."

Roxas focused on Saïx's face, unable to discern a single feature through his blurry vision no matter how many times he blinked. His eyes began to water as he endured the intense pains in his chest and abdomen with no means of communicating his plight. He winced, clutching at his middle with gritted teeth, fighting the urge to cough again.

"Are you in pain?"

Roxas nodded slowly, forcing his eyes to stay open. "How much longer…?"

"Zexion is coming. He will be here soon."

"Saïx…" Roxas whispered. "Don't punish Demyx…"

"Do not concern yourself with Demyx. He will be dealt with later. Focus on staying awake."

Roxas could soon hear hurried footsteps approaching before Saïx's blurry figure was joined by two more, leaning over him and closely inspecting him inch by inch.

"Demyx told me everything. Has there been any change?"

"No. He can hardly breathe. I believe he is choking on sand he inhaled in the storm. Then, of course, there's this…"

"That's not good… Roxas? It's Zexion. I'm just going to take a look and then we'll go and fix you up, okay?"

Sharp fingers pressed into his torso and he grunted loudly with the resulting pain. The touch lightened in response, gently prodding at the area for a few seconds more.

"Hard to tell. I need to scan him. Let's get him to Vexen's lab, quickly."

The two men carefully lifted Roxas from the ground and made their way toward the hall. Demyx, who had been watching from a few feet away, prepared to follow, but was stopped by Saïx. "You, Demyx, have a rather lengthy report to write. Consider it phase one of your punishment."

Before Demyx could respond, Saïx had left the room with Roxas in tow. Zexion lagged behind, giving Demyx a sympathetic look. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Demyx interrupted him.

"Don't worry about me. Go help Roxas."

Zexion hesitated, longing to protest, but ultimately was forced to attend to his fallen comrade. With a solemn nod, he turned and bolted out the doorway, leaving Demyx alone in the Grey Area to reflect on his latest string of failures.

* * *

"Your report, Saïx."

The impromptu meeting was attended by only Xemnas, Saïx, and Zexion, each man appearing tired and tense. It was unusual to hold a meeting so late at night, but it was necessary to keep Xemnas updated on Roxas' condition since the incident. For the moment, Roxas was in Vexen's care, and was doing quite well.

"Roxas was involved in a battle with the giant Heartless in Agrabah. He came away with minor injuries, from which I am told he will recover fully."

"Zexion, do you concur?"

Zexion was reading from his notepad, his eyes puffy from fatigue. "He sustained a blow to the sternum, causing massive internal bruising and upsetting the vessel inside him, but there will ultimately be no lasting damage from the attack."

Xemnas listened intently with his hands clasped in front of him, staring blankly in the direction of Roxas' seat across from him. Zexion scrolled through his notes and continued his report.

"He was also dehydrated and suffering from a mild case of heat stroke. He inhaled quite a bit of sand but his airways have been cleared. I expect he could return to work in a few days if he feels up to it."

Xemnas gave him a relieved smile. "It is most fortunate that he was not permanently incapacitated. How did this occur?"

Saïx chimed in, coldly describing the events in a scathing tone. "Demyx was ordered to keep him in town, far away from the giant Heartless. It was his responsibility to keep Roxas safe."

"And you believe he faltered in that responsibility?"

"Yes. But the matter is dealt with. I have assigned an appropriate punishment for him."

"Sir, if I may speak on Demyx's behalf," Zexion leaned to the front of his seat, shooting a disapproving glare at Saïx. "Roxas left the boundaries of town and pursued the giant Heartless of his own volition. Demyx neither forced nor persuaded him to do so, and in fact made several attempts to stop him. I do not believe Demyx was at fault here."

"Roxas is small and feeble, he could have easily been overpowered if Demyx had applied himself properly."

"You think he should have tackled a pregnant teenager and dragged him back kicking and screaming?"

"Gentlemen."

Their superior swiftly silenced their argument, leaving them only to pierce through each other's corneas with the daggers in their eyes.

"Let us not dwell on what cannot be changed. Assigning blame and delivering punishment are emotional reactions, well beneath our caliber. We must not lose sight of the reality of the situation. Roxas is alive and he is well. We need not trouble ourselves with this matter any further."

Several seconds passed with no words before Saïx pulled his haunting gaze off of Zexion's face. "I will lift the punishment from Demyx. Although I will still expect his completed report by the end of this week."

Xemnas nodded in approval, closing his eyes to ponder in silence. Saïx spoke up again, expressing a concern he'd held for weeks.

"Sir, I find myself wondering how we can prepare Roxas for Castle Oblivion if Agrabah has proven too much for him."

"A reasonable apprehension. Zexion, would you suggest that we keep Roxas at the castle for the remainder of his gestation?"

Zexion could only shrug, unable to offer a suitable answer that would please all parties involved. "Well, it would certainly be safer, but…"

"Roxas is still able-bodied and wants to work. Most of the time he comes back just fine, but an incident like this can't be brushed off as a fluke. He was lucky this time. Next time, he might not be."

Saïx's warning carried enough logic to elicit a pause from his comrades. Zexion proposed a compromise. "Why not just send him on lighter missions in worlds with milder climates?"

Saïx contemplated the suggestion for a moment before stating his opinion. "The options are scarcely limited. He may grow bored, but he'll likely consider it a blessing compared to the alternatives."

"Hmm…" Xemnas closed his eyes again, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Saïx, for now, let's dial back Roxas' workload and keep him away from worlds with extreme weather conditions. It is important that we not put any undue stress on him in his condition. I suggest reducing his hours and assigning him missions that are less strenuous."

There were nods from his subordinates. Xemnas, satisfied with the conclusion, ended the meeting.

"You are dismissed."

Neither Zexion nor Saïx left right away. Now that they were alone, Zexion appealed to Saïx, hoping to reach his merciful side, if he had one. "Don't you think you're a bit hard on Demyx?"

"In order to achieve muscle growth, one must first tear that muscle through rigorous exercise. When the injuries have healed, the muscle is stronger than it was before. Pain is growth."

"Demyx isn't a muscle, Saïx."

Saïx shrugged in exasperation. "I'm helping him to build character. The only way to thicken one's skin is to get under it on a regular basis."

Zexion crossed his arms disapprovingly. "I'm not sure I agree with that logic."

"You'll see. Demyx will grow stronger with the right motivation. He is simply a late bloomer."

Zexion leaned on his knees and made one last attempt to warm Saïx's icy disposition. "At least give him some credit here. He dove head-first into danger to pull Roxas out and bring him home. His uncharacteristic bravery and quick thinking in a crisis situation saved Roxas' life."

Saïx stared at him for a few moments, silent and expressionless. Finally, his hardened demeanor broke just enough for him to relent.

"I'll consider it. It's late and you look exhausted. Go to bed."

Before Zexion could react to the unexpected surrender, Saïx sank into a corridor of darkness and vanished for the evening.

* * *

When nothing else would cheer him up, Demyx could always rely on the company of his sitar. He lounged on his bed, absentmindedly plucking its strings, weaving together elaborate melodies with ease. Practicing his instrument was therapeutic for him to the point of being almost meditative. The sound was soothing enough to quiet all the noise in his mind so that he could relax without the use of drugs. Although he enjoyed alcohol and other substances recreationally, he hated the idea of becoming dependent on them. His heart was already gone. The last thing he wanted was to lose his mind too.

He was startled out of his trance by a knock at the door. He glanced at the clock to find that it was nearly midnight and wondered who could be calling on him at this late hour.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Demyx."

Demyx's chest fluttered at the sound of Zexion's voice. He took a couple of breaths and returned to playing his sitar, frantically trying to restore his calm state of mind.

"Okay, come in."

The door opened and Zexion entered, nervously fussing with his hair. Demyx glanced up at him, his fingers never missing a note on his sitar as he greeted his guest. "Hey, man. What's up?"

Zexion shrugged as he cautiously meandered in Demyx's direction. "I was working late and uh… I wanted to check in on you."

Demyx chuckled and returned his attention to his instrument. "Still breathing, last I checked."

Zexion smiled and took a seat at the foot of the bed, listening to Demyx play. "I thought you might want to talk."

Demyx didn't look up from his sitar, choosing not to respond for the time being. Demyx never considered himself to be very good with words, and often found that it was better for him to just say nothing at all, at the risk of looking foolish in front of people who already thought he was dumb as a brick. He communicated far more effectively with his instrument, as his improvised strumming usually reflected his current mood.

"You've been isolating yourself. I haven't seen you in the Grey Area in days—"

"Did the guys put you up to this? Luxord? Xigbar?"

Zexion paused, taken aback by the question. "N-no. I came here because I was concerned. Saïx has been really hard on you and I just… needed to know that you weren't letting it get to you."

"Pfft," Demyx scoffed. "That asshole? There's no pleasing him. I don't care what he thinks."

"Then what's bothering you?"

Demyx sighed and put his instrument away, crossing his arms and staring at the wall. It was a long time before he finally answered. "It happened so fast."

Zexion didn't interrupt, listening intently to Demyx as he slowly let his guard down. Demyx dropped is head in his hands and sighed heavily. "One minute he was right in front of me and the next… He could have died, and it would have been all because of me."

Demyx collected himself in silence for a few moments more. He had always liked Roxas and could remember quite well the strange aches he felt when he was kidnapped. He had a keen awareness of Roxas' absence and could hardly stand the sense of emptiness his friend left behind. Demyx never could quite articulate how he felt at the time, but upon reflection he came to interpret the sensations as loneliness and sorrow.

Zexion, recognizing clearly the pain in Demyx's face, gently gripped his shoulder in support. "Demyx… it wasn't your fault."

"I should have dragged his ass back to the castle instead of letting him leave town. I could see the sun was getting to him but I let him go anyway. And I couldn't protect him because I suck at combat. Saïx is right. I'm just a colossal screw-up."

"That isn't true and you know it. Demyx, think about it. What could you realistically have done any differently?"

Demyx was quiet as he went back over the events in his mind. Zexion had a point. Roxas was adamant and Demyx was in no position to stop him doing what he wanted to do. There really wasn't much else Demyx could have done in those circumstances with the resources available to him. All he could do at the time was try and keep the kid safe while he made his own bad decisions. Perhaps he was letting Saïx get to him more than he was willing to admit. He'd have been lying if he said he didn't dwell on the man's disparagement just a little.

"Zexion… I never took my eyes off him. I watched his every move. I told him to take a break a million times. I warned him about leaving town. I tried to stop him going after the giant Heartless. His dumb ass didn't listen to anything I said…"

Demyx was working himself up as he re-evaluated every step he took, subjecting himself once again to the unfair scrutiny under which he always seemed to be buried. "I ran in after him when he went anyway. I cast a shield around him with my crappy water spells when he got surrounded. I brought him right back as soon as the situation was out of control. Damn it, I did everything right, Zexion! What more could I have done?!"

Zexion tenderly stroked Demyx's arm as he grew more and more upset, hoping to calm him down so that he could finally let go of his guilt. "Demyx… you're right. There was nothing more you could have done. Roxas made those choices all on his own. You are not responsible for what happened to him."

Demyx kept his head down, making no outward reaction to Zexion's agreement, despite how grateful he was to hear those words. Zexion filled the silence with a continuation of his motivational lecture. "You followed every instruction and you saved your friend from lasting harm. Roxas is fine. His injuries were minor and he is returning to duty. You didn't make any mistakes, Demyx. You did everything right."

Demyx finally looked up at Zexion, comforted by his warm expression. He was certain this entire encounter violated his 'making it weird' code, but for the moment, he didn't care. Zexion had made him feel better, and for that he was extremely grateful. He smiled at him, feeling his cheeks beginning to flush. "Thanks, Zexion. That's really nice of you to say."

"Any time, Demyx. Saïx seems to think he can make you stronger by mistreating you. I wholeheartedly disagree with his methods."

"Ha! _That's_ why he's always on my case? He's in for a world of disappointment. I don't want to be stronger. I'm fine just the way I am."

Zexion wanted very much to voice his enthusiastic agreement, but he lost his nerve, emitting no words when he opened his mouth. He remembered very clearly Demyx's code and refused to violate it out of respect for his friend.

Demyx clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back onto his pillow. "Did you really come up here just to make me feel better?"

Zexion blushed, averting his eyes. "Uh, well… I wanted to see you."

Demyx grinned, having expected that answer. "You know, I completely forgot to thank you."

"Thank me? What for?"

Demyx reached under his pillow and pulled out the stuffed Moogle toy Zexion had given him. "Do you have any idea how much better I sleep with this guy next to me? It's a miracle."

Zexion laughed, thrilled to see his old plush toy being put to good use. "I'm glad to know that after all these years, he still works."

"You mean he was yours?"

Zexion nodded, smiling at the fond memories the little doll brought up within him. "Ansem the Wise gave it to me when I was a boy. See… my parents died in a Heartless invasion, and for the longest time after that, I couldn't sleep. I had these awful nightmares… But when Master Ansem gave me this stuffed Moogle, suddenly I could sleep again. I remember the very first night when he gave it to me, I fell asleep right in his arms, almost instantly."

Demyx was silent, lost for words. He had no idea the plushie was such a meaningful item to Zexion. Just to make him feel better, Zexion gave Demyx a toy that held great sentimental value and cherished childhood memories. He was touched by the gesture.

"Ansem the Wise was like a grandfather to me. I loved him dearly, and that Moogle reminds me of him. He never failed to make me feel better when I was hurting, and I know he'll do the same for you."

Demyx smiled with gratitude. "I'll take good care of him."

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, neither man knowing what to say next. Demyx pressed the Moogle to his chest and let its soft fur brush against his cheek. He kept his eyes closed for awhile while Zexion stared out the window, lost in thought. He found himself soothed by the sound of his steady breathing, nearly lulled to sleep just listening to it. He opened his eyes to keep himself awake, stealing a glance at Zexion as he perched on the other side of the bed.

Demyx was drawn to the handsome features of Zexion's face. The glow of the moon accentuated the soft curves of his jaw line and highlighted his cheekbones. His deep aqua-colored eyes sparkled brilliantly even in the dark of night, and the way his steel blue hair fell over his skin gave him an irresistible air of mystery.

Demyx rose to sit upright, looking out the window alongside him. Zexion smiled warmly at his company. "Hey, uh… I didn't… hurt you, did I?"

Zexion faced him, baffled. "Hurt me?" Puzzled, he took a moment to understand what Demyx was talking about. "When did you—? Oh." It wasn't long before he realized what he was referring to, giggling nervously as it struck him. "Oh, I see. Uh… No, Demyx. You didn't hurt me."

In truth, it hurt like hell. Zexion was sore for several days following the encounter, unable to comfortably sit in his chair while he worked and eliciting numerous raised eyebrows from Vexen as he stiffly hobbled around the lab, insisting he just had an aching back. But it was worth it. He'd have done it all over again without a second thought.

Demyx battled with himself over whether he should move the conversation along. He was struggling with his pitifully limited vocabulary and was way over the 'making it weird' line by now, but was so taken to Zexion that he simply couldn't stop himself. "That's, uh… good to hear."

Zexion smiled reassuringly. "But, I hurt you, didn't I? Let me see it."

He lifted Demyx's arm, closely inspecting it as he scooted closer. "This is looking better. You've been keeping up with your after-care."

He lightly traced his fingers along the harsh grooves in Demyx's skin. Demyx hadn't thought much about the gash left by the giant Heartless in Agrabah until being forced to go back there a second time. The healing flesh was still slightly tender, and he winced as Zexion brushed over a sore spot, concerning the scientist.

"It still hurts?"

"No, not really. Itches like crazy, though."

"That's normal. It's healing pretty nicely. You can put some ice on it, if it bothers you…"

"I have a better idea."

Demyx dragged his fingertips along Zexion's jaw to his chin and over his lips. He brushed his hair off of his face and tucked it behind his ear, finally getting a good look at both of his eyes, unobscured by his long fringe. Zexion, feeling exposed, felt his cheeks heating up as Demyx stared at him with a longing gaze. He quickly understood what Demyx was suggesting, gently taking his injured arm and planting the softest kiss over the center of the mending scar.

"Is that better?"

"Hmm… try again."

A dozen kisses later, Demyx had scooted so close that he now sat only inches from Zexion. Through with playing around, he leaned in for a proper kiss, stopping only centimeters from Zexion's lips and savoring the warmth of his ragged breaths as he panted with anticipation.

"Does that hurt, too, Demyx?"

"Like the dickens."

Zexion gave in to the temptation and invited Demyx into the kiss he'd been building up. The touch of his lips caused thousands of tiny static shocks beneath Zexion's skin. He felt a surge of warmth shoot from his chest and spread through his body. He longed to take Demyx into his arms, needing to be close to him. The feeling was so powerful that it frightened him and he broke off the kiss, gasping as he tried to catch his breath. He rubbed his chest to quiet the pounding sensation, blinking the dizziness out of his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Demyx asked with a tone of concern and confusion. "You okay?"

Zexion turned away as he tried to slow down his breathing. "I'm… I'm sorry, Demyx. This is all new to me. I just…"

Normally so eloquent, Zexion was now lost for words, unable to describe the feeling he was experiencing. The sensations were completely unfamiliar, incomparable to any emotion he remembered ever feeling in his human life. He couldn't tell if he was excited or terrified, or whether he was about to laugh or about to cry.

"Hey… it's my bad. I moved too fast. I'm sorry, man."

"No, no, I…" Zexion began to tremble, feeling a sudden tension in his throat. "Demyx… I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Demyx's face fell, realizing he must have scared Zexion off. "Yeah, I'll be there. Goodnight, dude. See you tomorrow."

Zexion gave him an anxious-looking smile before rushing out the door. Demyx stared blankly after him for a long while, trying to understand what had happened. Zexion was certainly timid during their previous encounter, and they took things quite a bit farther then. Something about tonight must have really put him off, Demyx just couldn't figure out what that could be.

After spending a long while reflecting on the evening, he gave up trying to solve the puzzle. He picked up the stuffed Moogle toy again, turning its face to his own and speaking directly to it. "I guess I can't do anything right, huh?"

The Moogle didn't respond, but Demyx squeezed it all the same, hoping it would make him feel better. He fell onto his pillow, still clutching the plushie, and closed his eyes. Thankfully, and to his pleasant surprise, the Moogle still did its job. Demyx felt himself relaxing deeply into his mattress, wrapped in the warm blanket draped over his body. In no time at all, he sank comfortably into a peaceful, restful sleep.


	12. Bumps and Bruises

"Hey, Roxas. Missed you at the clock tower today. You want to come play cards with us?"

"No thanks." Roxas mumbled without looking at him, his voice sounding forlorn.

"You feeling alright?"

"Just tired."

Roxas was sitting on the opposite side of the bed, staring out the window, hugging his knees to his chest. Axel cautiously approached him, trying to read his face as he sat beside him. Roxas scooted away, reaching for his pillow and tightly wrapping his arms around it. His expression was troubled, his eyes fixed sternly at the moon but not really seeing it. His brows were tense and his jaw was clenched. He neither breathed nor blinked. If Axel didn't know any better he'd have thought Roxas was a mannequin.

"You want to talk?"

Roxas shook his head, pursing his lips and breathing heavily through his nose. Axel rested a hand on his shoulder and he flinched, turning slightly away from him, squeezing the pillow harder to his chest.

"Roxas, whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you, man."

Roxas tossed down the pillow and rose from the bed, pacing toward the closet with his arms crossed in front of him. He tugged at his coat nervously, keeping his back to his friend. Axel reached for him, hoping to offer support, but Roxas avoided his touch. It was quite clear that he was hiding something.

Axel kept his distance as Roxas' shoulders began to shake. He sniffled, wringing his hands as he slowly turned to face Axel. Tears welled up in his eyes as he dropped his arms. When Axel couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, Roxas unzipped his coat and let it fall to the floor.

His thin, bony frame was as lean as ever, but Axel's attention was immediately drawn to the one feature that seemed out of place — the one Roxas had tried so desperately to conceal. His abdomen was markedly swollen, looking quite round and distended. His skin stretched thinly over the sizeable bump, causing small red lines to spread along his sides. It wasn't very big, still easy enough to obscure beneath his coat as long as he was careful about his positioning, but it wouldn't be long before he could no longer hide the appearance of his rapidly growing belly.

Axel failed to suppress a gasp and a look of shock, and Roxas covered his face in shame. Kicking himself for upsetting his friend, Axel stood and extended his arms, beckoning Roxas to come the rest of the way. Roxas hesitated before finally submitting, pressing his face into Axel's chest and weeping into his coat. Axel went rigid, feeling unhelpful and clueless about what he should do or say. He awkwardly slid his arms around Roxas' back, hoping it might settle his crying. It was still a jarring sight — a Nobody shedding tears.

"I look like a freak…!"

"No you don't. It doesn't look that bad. It's gonna be okay, Roxas…"

"It's only going to get bigger… it's disgusting…"

"It'll just take some time for you to get used to it is all…"

"I hate it! I hate everyone staring at me like I'm some gross abomination! I hate being poked and prodded at like a specimen in a test tube! I hate all of this, Axel, I can't do it anymore!"

"Shhh… You can get through this, Roxas. I know you can. And I'm here with you the whole way through."

Roxas, defeated, gave up the argument as his soft crying took the place of his words. Axel guided him back to the bed to sit down, wrapping a supportive arm around Roxas' shoulders as he buried his face in his hands.

"Listen, Roxas… I know this is hard. I can't even imagine what you're going through. But I'm your friend, and I want to help in any way I can. Got it memorized?"

Roxas, wiping his face, managed a brief, grateful smile. "Thanks, Axel. You help a lot."

Roxas carried on well into the evening, eventually laying himself down on his pillow, his tears soaking the sheets as he curled up on himself. Axel stayed with him until the gasping and sniffling had subsided, caressing his arm without saying a word. After awhile, Roxas had fallen asleep, and Axel threw a blanket over him before quietly leaving him to rest. He had all but forgotten about the card game, now feeling too drained to shift gears to his usual light hearted demeanor, but not tired enough to go to sleep.

He wandered the halls aimlessly, lost in thought for nearly an hour before realizing he had come to a halt in front of Saïx's door. Axel couldn't understand why he felt compelled to visit Saïx now, but here he was, as if his legs had carried him here all on their own. He hesitantly knocked on the door, hoping no one would answer.

"Enter."

He opened the door and peered inside to find Saïx at his desk, pouring over a mess of papers. He glanced up at Axel with a confused expression before returning his attention to his work.

Axel cleared his throat apprehensively, still standing in the doorway. "You still up?"

"You know I don't sleep. What do you want?"

"I couldn't sleep either."

Saïx lifted his head again, raising his eyebrows. "Well then, have you come to put together next week's mission schedule? I'll just go do whatever it is you do at this time of night."

Axel chuckled lightly, finally stepping into the room and letting the door close behind him. "I don't think you want to give me that responsibility. I'll just give everyone a vacation for the week."

"Quite frankly, that sounds splendid."

"Sounds like you need a break."

Saïx was squinting at paper after paper, rubbing his forehead with a pained look on his face. Axel approached the desk, taking a seat across from him and observing the disorganized nature of his work material. It was unlike Saïx to be so untidy.

"What's this?"

"Mission reports. I swear, Demyx is illiterate…"

"Most likely. So what's got you so stumped this time?"

Saïx shuffled his papers around again, laying a handful of them in haphazard stacks off to one side. "We are getting ready to send you and Roxas on your Castle Oblivion mission. I'm trying to figure out how to get everything else taken care of with five people out there."

"You mean that's still happening?"

Saïx focused deeply on the paper in front of him, scribbling notes before crossing them out again, and erasing some other items before writing over them. "We had some setbacks. The incident in Agrabah threw off our plans, but Xemnas still wants that heart. Hmm, maybe if I bring Lexaeus back…"

"He could get hurt, Isa."

Saïx did not look up from his work. "I am slowly reintroducing him to combat situations. If he does well this week, then next week we can send you both to Castle Oblivion."

"Combat wasn't a concern in Castle Oblivion. It was all that memory manipulation Naminé was doing."

"She isn't there now."

"Yeah, but that castle is full of mysteries we haven't solved. It amplified her power, for all we know it could still have an effect on him."

"It's a risk Xemnas is ordering us to take."

They were silent for several minutes. Saïx continued writing and erasing, pressing his fingers to his temples and concentrating intently on the list in front of him. Axel, unsure of what more to say, had taken to staring at the wall, distracted by his concern for Roxas. He barely managed to get Roxas out of Castle Oblivion before serious damage was done last time. The risks could only be greater now than then, and Axel hated that he couldn't guarantee Roxas' safety on this mission.

Saïx had taken notice of Axel's pondering. Hoping to get the man to share what was on his mind, he opened with an observation to which he knew Axel would have a reaction. "He is beginning to show."

Axel whipped his head around with a worried look. "Well don't say anything to him, he's trying to hide it."

"Hmph. It's deplorable. Nobodies are not supposed to be capable of reproduction. One needs a heart in order to create life."

Rather than argue with the man, Axel sighed and returned his gaze to the wall. He was correct in saying that Nobodies shouldn't be able to reproduce, but no one had ever tried to test that theory. Either way, the situation with Roxas was far different, and Saïx knew that. Axel refused to let him get under his skin this time. He couldn't help but sense that Saïx knew something about the experiment that neither Axel nor Roxas did. Saïx was always cryptic and secretive, but this time Axel could almost see the burden in the man's eyes.

"All right, how about I pair you and Xigbar for Agrabah, then I can put Roxas with Luxord…"

"Isa..."

"...Demyx can go to Beast's Castle, and with any luck, Xaldin will whip him into shape…"

"Isa."

Isa finally looked up in exasperation. "Yes, Lea?"

"What do you know? You're hiding something. And it has to do with Roxas."

Saïx hastily resumed his work. "I know as much as you do. This experiment yields more questions than answers."

"I know you, Isa. I can see it in your face. There's something you're not telling me."

Saïx finally sighed and set down his pencil, clasping his hands together and leaning in toward Axel. "Xemnas wants the experiment to fail."

"What? Why?"

"He wants to completely drain Roxas of memories, turning him into a blank slate, indistinguishable from one of Vexen's replicas."

Axel gaped in disbelief. After everything they went through to get Roxas back from his kidnappers, they wanted him out of the picture? Axel paused, putting the evidence together in his mind. "...That's why he's keeping it going. Because it's already failing."

"Yes. The vessel has attached itself to Roxas through his memories. They are so deeply interwoven that they cannot be separated without losing Roxas entirely. There was time earlier, when the connections could have been more easily severed, but Xemnas insisted we press on."

Axel lowered his eyes, grasping for hope in a hopeless situation. "There's still a chance Roxas could win out on this battle. He could absorb the memories back and drain the vessel."

Saïx shook his head. "If that were happening, Xemnas would call off the experiment."

Axel scratched his head in thought. What did Xemnas have to gain from draining Roxas? Why Roxas instead of one of the others? What did he plan to do with the absorbed memories? What about the lost heart? "It doesn't make sense. Why is he letting this go on? I thought he just wanted to make a copy of Ventus and keep Sora from waking up and reclaiming his heart. What are his motivations here?"

"I don't know. But Xemnas has no interest in duplicating anything. He seeks to wipe a person clean. I do not know why."

Axel was quiet for a long while as he contemplated this news. Xemnas' plan for draining Roxas was needlessly complicated. It seemed unnecessary to create this elaborate ruse with the hero's memory manipulation and seeking the lost heart if all he wanted was to clean out Roxas' memories and turn him into an empty shell. There must be more to Xemnas' plans that even Saïx didn't know.

Saïx was preoccupied with his work again, scribbling on the papers in front of him with a tense and trembling hand. His tired eyes were bloodshot and his obvious headache seemed to persist, despite his efforts to hide it.

"... then Lexaeus can go to Olympus Coliseum, Vexen can go to— ah, but the new world…"

Axel watched him as he worked, fixating on the intensity of his old friend's eyes as he stared into the paper, the sharp curve of his brow as it furrowed in concentration, and the way he absentmindedly bit his lip as he solved the equations in his mind. Axel could get lost in the man's features, perfect and striking as they were. He hadn't realized he was staring until Saïx peered at him with a questioning look.

"Did you come down here just to stare at me?"

Axel, jerked from his daze, quickly averted his eyes and collected his thoughts. There were things he wanted to say, but he dreaded finally reaching that part of the conversation. "Isa… about that night… Look, I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"Why are you apologizing? I quite enjoyed it."

"You don't think I was a little harsh?"

"Perhaps. But I got what I needed. Small price to pay." Saïx shrugged and returned to his work, shuffling papers and organizing them into piles, not looking up from the desk. "What, you think I can't take it?"

"Isa… There are clearly some things we need to talk about here."

"Such as?"

"What's this going to mean for us? Where is this going to go?"

Saïx heaved another sigh, prodding at his forehead in frustration. "Lea, I'm working. Do we have to have this discussion now?"

"We can't avoid it forever."

Saïx laid his papers down and massaged his sore wrist. "You're a damn good lay, Lea. Don't make me regret calling on you."

"Isa, I'm being serious. If we keep fooling around like that, one of us is going to get hurt."

"We are not capable of being injured in that fashion. Those days are long gone. Is there something you would like to share with the class, Lea?"

Axel backed off, dropping his head and saying nothing more. He chided himself for getting his hopes up and thinking perhaps there was something he and Saïx could rekindle. Saïx softened his expression and leaned across the desk.

"You're losing yourself in your memories again. What we had is in the distant past where it belongs. What we have now is the only part that still works."

"If you say so, Isa."

Saïx crumpled up a few papers and tossed them to the nearby wastebasket with a sigh. He collected another stack and casually rifled through them. "If physical gratification without the emotional context disturbs you, I don't have to bother you anymore. But it looked to me like you had a good time, too. I don't see what you're so afraid of."

"I could ask you the same question."

Saïx was quiet for several moments as he organized his collection of papers. Axel, disappointed, let his eyes fall to the floor again, pushing away the memories that bombarded him against his will. He considered that Saïx was probably right — Axel was simply being tricked by false emotions again, rendered incapable of feeling the real versions. Perhaps all they could ever have now was meaningless entertainment and nothing more.

Axel was just rising to leave for the night when Saïx called out to him. "Lea," he had paused his search and raised an eyebrow at Axel. "I'm out of practice. Was I that bad?"

Axel rolled his eyes, unwilling to play Saïx's games tonight. "Come on, Isa, of course not."

Saïx set his papers down again, returning to rubbing his aching wrist. "Look at all this writing I have to do. My wrist gets so sore… At this rate, I'll develop tendinitis if I don't give it a rest once in awhile."

Seeing very clearly between the lines, Axel giggled at the subtle joke, pleasantly surprised to see Saïx trying to lighten the mood. He reached for the man's forearm and gently pushed back his long sleeve. "I never figured you to be the type, Isa."

"I don't sleep. How else would you suppose I pass the time?" Saïx responded, wincing as Axel prodded sharply at his wrist.

"You have no one else?"

"What kind of man do you think I am?"

"A picky one, apparently."

Axel smirked as he firmly dragged his fingers along the tense muscles, unlocking the knots slowly and meticulously. He was delighted to hear Saïx gasp softly as he pressed his thumbs into the man's arm, pulling them deliberately from his elbow through his fingers and back again. It didn't matter whether it was from pain or pleasure; both possibilities were exciting to Axel, and he made a point to elicit several more of them out of him over the course of this generous rubdown.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"Oh, you're hurting me. You're hurting me just perfectly. So don't stop."

Upon reflection of Saïx's words, Axel came to realize that the things he said made very little sense. He insisted there could be nothing more than empty engagements between them, yet admitted to preferring Axel over all others, to the point where he accepted no one else's company but his. Dumbfounded by his contradictions, Axel longed to question him further, but left well enough alone for the time being, savoring the few moments he had in which he could touch him.

Axel was silent as he drew out his measured strokes along Saïx's wrist, carefully devoting ample time to every inch of the strained limb. It took several minutes, but Saïx's hardened muscles began to release as Axel kneaded them with expert skill, the man's tensely locked fingers finally relaxing at his touch. Saïx barely suppressed a shuddering sigh of relief as his aching wrist loosened up. Axel dreaded having to let go of him, wishing he could continue his gentle massage for the rest of the night.

As Axel delicately traced over the lines on his palm with his fingertips, he began to sense the gradual change in Saïx's mood. Anyone else would have been lulled to sleep by Axel's hypnotizing caress, but Saïx watched intently, biting his lip as his breaths grew heavy. The man's cheeks were flushing and his eyes began to burn through Axel's guard as his blank stare shifted to a hungry smolder. Unable to resist him, Axel cast off his inhibitions and accepted his silent proposal with a mischievous grin. "This is so tight. You poor thing. You can always come to me. No appointment necessary."

"I've half a mind to turn you over this desk."

"Only half?"

Saïx rose to his feet and grabbed Axel's collar, pulling him forcefully into a passionate kiss. His fingers traced along Axel's cheek and raked through his fiery red hair. Axel climbed onto the desk, crawling toward him without ever breaking contact with his mouth. Upon reaching the other side, he slid to the floor in front of Saïx's chair and hastily unclasped his belt. In no time, he had freed Saïx of his pants and went to work on relieving his tension. He longed to continue tasting Saïx's soft lips and warm tongue, but reluctantly broke the kiss to direct his attention elsewhere.

Axel stiffened as he listened to Saïx's quiet grunting and heavy breathing. His scalp tingled as Saïx tugged at his hair with his tightly clenched fist. Axel had enjoyed his little power play last time, but letting Saïx take control was especially exciting. Saïx was the only man who was brave enough to be rough with him, and tonight was no exception, as he slammed Axel down onto the desk and practically tore his clothes off of him before thrusting into him ferociously.

Their lips locked for the majority of the encounter, only ever parting to catch their breaths. Saïx manhandled Axel with a powerful grip, digging his fingers into his lover's flesh as he grasped his thighs and threw his legs out of the way to plunge himself deeper inside him. He sank his teeth into Axel's lips and tongue, then his cheek, then his jaw, drinking in the sound of his subordinate's euphoric moans and whimpers in response. Axel threw his arms around Saïx's neck, drawing him closer and dragging his fingernails along his back.

The pair soon became a mess of rolling hips and tangled limbs. Their skin glistened with sweat and their ragged breaths nearly fogged up the window across the room. Brightly colored hair was thrown in all directions and stray papers flew off the desk. Saïx soon felt himself nearing the edge and graciously reached down to bring Axel along with him. Pressure climbed in both of their bodies and their muscles began to spasm and clench.

Axel beat him to it, but not by much. Only moments after the pressure released and pleasure overwhelmed him, he could feel the throbbing of Saïx joining him in ecstasy. Loudly and with abandon, both men succumbed to the intensity of their euphoria with bucking hips and arching backs. Axel threw his head back onto the desk, pressing his pelvis desperately into Saïx as he let his lover fill him generously.

As their climaxes wound down, they rested in place, panting heavily and dripping sweat onto the papers scattered on the surface of the desk. Saïx left Axel and sank back into his chair, looking far more relaxed than when Axel first arrived, clearly having needed the release.

"Now what's… so wrong with that…?" He huffed, still winded.

Axel didn't respond immediately. He could get used to the idea of these encounters becoming a regular thing, but he couldn't get past the memories that raced into his mind each time. Saïx was so much more than just a casual lay to him, and although their relationship could be described as 'strained' at best, he found it more and more difficult to deny that he missed what they used to have. He hopped down from the desk and started redressing himself when Saïx caught him by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"Lea…"

Axel took the bait and turned around, surprised by what he saw in Saïx's eyes. There was feeling there. It was a quick glimpse, heavily stifled, but easily recognizable. Without having said anything, Axel understood what Saïx was trying to communicate to him. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone, and Saïx's face turned to stone again. Crestfallen, Axel returned to zipping his coat and made his way toward the door.

"Get some rest, Isa. I'll see you in the morning."


	13. Quickening

"Saïx! Good morning! Did you wake up on the right side of the bed today?"

Saïx did not turn to see who had called out to him as he casually strolled down the hall toward the Grey Area. The voice was so recognizable he'd have to be deaf to mistake it. Xigbar quickly caught up and walked alongside him with an energetic grin on his face. Saïx barely concealed his annoyance at his bothersome comrade, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he politely greeted him.

"Good morning, Xigbar. I woke up on the same side I do every day."

"But, it looks like this time you actually got your beauty sleep."

Saïx glanced at him with his usual expressionless face, questioning him with feigned offense. "Are you suggesting I wasn't beautiful yesterday?"

Xigbar laughed out loud at the witty remark, pleasantly surprised to be hearing it out of the most uptight member of the Organization. "Ha! Saïx, it's been a long time since I've seen you look this chill in the morning. Whatever epic knockout pills you found, I hope you brought enough to share with the class!"

"I counted sheep."

Xigbar, seeing right through Saïx's deliberately innocent tone, leaned in and whispered mischievously. "All by yourself?"

Coming to a dead stop, Saïx only gave him his signature blank stare in response. Xigbar got the message pretty quickly, confirming his suspicions. He flashed his comrade a knowing smile before taking off to greet Luxord. Saïx rolled his eyes, internally preparing himself to be the subject of childish gossip for the rest of the day.

As usual, Saïx did not sleep, despite his witty counter to Xigbar's joke. After Axel left, he spent a good thirty minutes just standing motionless in his shower, unflinchingly letting the water pour over him until it turned cold. Without even bothering to dry off, he sprawled himself out on his mattress and stared out the window for hours, begging for sleep, only for his pleading to go unanswered yet again. All he could do was gaze listlessly at the moon and meditate, but his mind kept wandering to the conversation with Axel. He should have expected the man to become sentimental and try to dig up old ghosts. The way Axel clung to the false hope that the course of their lives could be reversed was nauseating, and Saïx chided himself for failing to anticipate the risks before soliciting him.

Saïx took his usual place at the far end of the room, prompting his comrades to instinctively flock to him, just as they did every morning. Reading from his clipboard, he barked out the day's mission schedule in his usual lifeless drone, seeking to finish the briefings as quickly as possible so that all of these men would get out of his hair.

"Roxas, I am told that your recovery has been exemplary. For this week, I will be assigning you very light work until you have regained your strength. Today you will go to Wonderland with Luxord. Clear out the Heartless there and keep an eye out for Emerald Serenades. If at any point you feel you need to return, you are authorized to do so."

"Understood."

"Luxord, I want him back here looking as good as he does now. Watch him."

"Leave it to me, Saïx."

"Axel, Xigbar, go to Agrabah and determine the kind of manpower we will need to take out that Heartless. And for god's sake don't engage it."

"You got it, boss."

"Vexen, I want you to visit the new world and continue mapping it out. Stay in the northern region today."

"Off I go, then."

"Demyx, you're going to Beast's Castle with Xaldin. If you can't bench press a Morning Star by the time you come back, you'll be joining him and Lexaeus for their exercise regimen every morning for the rest of the week."

"Tomorrow is leg day, little boy. And we don't use safe words. Hope you're ready."

"Aw come on, Saïx. Can _you _bench press a Morning Star?"

"Yes. Bring me one and I'll happily demonstrate. Now get out of here."

As his comrades disappeared into their dark corridors one by one, taking off for another day of the same old grind, Saïx found himself alone once again. He had nothing to complain about - this was his role as Xemnas' right hand, and the job was a cushy one. Any one of the other members would consider it a perk to spend their days in a quiet, empty castle, undisturbed by noisy comrades and strenuous grunt work. However, even Saïx could grow bored of the silence.

He let his mind wander again as he perched on the arm of the sofa with his tired eyes fixed on the glowing moon. His wrist was bothering him again. He indulged in the memory of watching Axel's fingers glide over his skin with an almost salacious quality to their trek. The peculiar sensation of pain mixed with relief as his aching muscles capitulated to Axel's masterful touch should have driven him mad with lust. And, in a way, it did, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't like before. It was more the _feeling _of lust that Saïx was lusting after. His ensuing arousal was simply an automatic physical response, lacking any real desire behind the performance.

Saïx closed his eyes, fully lost in the memory of the encounter. The images began to blur together; the sight of flying papers as he flung Axel's skinny frame onto the desk, the light dancing on his glistening skin as he squirmed desperately beneath his dominating lover, the agonized grimace he wore as Saïx relentlessly drove into him. All so raw and erotic, quite effectively granting Saïx the release he'd needed, yet only resulting in all the satisfaction of scratching a particularly stubborn itch. It was pleasurable, but ultimately it was empty.

Saïx was honest when he revealed to Axel how he preferred to pass the time during the lonely hours of the night. If only to alleviate the boredom of insomnia, Saïx yielded to the only pleasure he could experience alone, disappointing as it always turned out to be. He performed the task like a chore, going through the motions as he lay in bed and stared vacantly at the ceiling. Every climax was as underwhelming as the last, only ever achieving a mark of 'barely passable.' It wasn't enough. In desperation, he turned to Axel, reducing himself to playing a pitifully submissive role in the hopes that the humiliation would ignite a fiery rage at his dominator, or an insatiable hunger for more punishment. It didn't matter. He just wanted to feel _something. Anything. _And he was so close, he could almost taste it.

The image of Axel's face just before he left, downcast and forlorn, sprang into Saïx's mind. At the time, he had failed to read it, and devoted much of the night to interpreting every detail of the expression. If Saïx didn't know any better, he would say that Axel appeared to be hurt himself. But of course that was preposterous — Axel had no heart, leaving heartache quite obviously out of his grasp. It was a wonder that Axel ever concerned himself with all the frivolous strings and baggage which so often came with romantic partnership, as he clearly had no qualms about walking away from the only one he'd ever had. It was far too late for him to start regretting things now.

His quiet contemplation was soon interrupted by the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps approaching from behind. Saïx slid off the sofa and stood at attention for his Superior. It was unlike him to come to the Grey Area, preferring to summon his subordinates to him, rather than seek them out. Saïx suppressed his curious trepidation as he awaited Xemnas' orders.

"Something troubles you." His greeting was warm, but icy. Under the naive illusion of privacy, Saïx had allowed himself to sink a little too deep into his memories, and Xemnas seemed to know exactly where his mind had wandered. Saïx began to feel very exposed, as if Xemnas could peer right through him.

"No, sir. I was observing the moon."

"I see…"

Xemnas casually strolled to the tall window, gazing proudly at the bright, heart-shaped moon that was his Kingdom Hearts. Saïx had spent countless hours standing in that very spot, watching that very moon, and listening to the voices of the Hearts it contained. For those who were sensitive to its energy, it was an invigorating experience.

"Kingdom Hearts continues to flourish. We have our dedicated Keyblade Wielder to thank." Xemnas spoke with delight in his voice, smiling openly at his masterpiece. Though his joy was so practiced as to appear genuine, every second of pleasant small talk made Saïx more and more uneasy. Surely the Superior hadn't come all this way just to admire the moon.

"Yes, sir. He has remarkable work ethic, considering the circumstances."

"How is he? Is he in good health?"

"As far as I can tell. I've watched him closely. There have been no further incidents."

Xemnas nodded approvingly, returning his gaze to the moon. The two stared out the window in silence for a while. Xemnas never ceased to impress his comrades with his command over nothingness, ever an expert at comfortably doing nothing. Saïx often found him in the Room where Nothing Gathers, sitting idle on his throne for hours at a time. Other times, he could be found on the roof, reaching into the empty void of the pitch black sky with his eyes closed. No matter where he went, he was always alone. It was that propensity for isolation that he and Saïx seemed to share.

Saïx's thoughts raced with the possible reasons Xemnas had come. His face was unreadable, and his voice was neutral. If he had orders, why was he taking so long to deliver them? After some time, Saïx began to sense that he was being observed. He could feel Xemnas' eyes on him, but he maintained his expressionless stare, unflinching, waiting for his leader to speak his mind at last.

"You are still unable to sleep."

His comment took Saïx by surprise, and he turned his face to Xemnas, barely concealing his broken composure. "Sir?"

"How long has it been?"

Caught entirely off-guard, Saïx took several seconds to collect himself and adjust to the unexpected turn in the conversation. "Weeks, sir. I've lost count."

Xemnas's face fell with a sigh, displaying a convincing facsimile of regret and sorrow. "Pitiable," With near-perfect remorse in his voice, he offered sympathy to his comrade. "It was an unintended side effect. To have such an intimate connection to the moon that you can draw power from it… only for it to draw power from you as well."

Saïx preferred not to discuss his insomnia with the man who had indirectly caused it. He spoke flatly and with no outward reaction to his Superior's uncharacteristic prying. "It was a steep price. The moon demands my attention. Sleeping would deprive me of its power."

Xemnas responded with a silent, understanding nod. He was quite good at fooling his comrades into believing he held any real concern for their well-being, but Saïx knew better. Every word and every inflection was nothing more than a well-rehearsed charade, performed by a highly skilled actor.

"Sir, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"About Roxas?"

"Why is it that we are trying to rid ourselves of him?"

Xemnas' cold response reflected his indifference to the boy's fate. "Roxas has defected once already. He is a liability."

"Then why not just turn him into a Dusk and be done with him?"

Xemnas began to pace along the length of the windowed edge of the room, pausing as he constructed his explanation. His answer was matter-of-fact, spoken with disinterest in his voice. "He is still a Keyblade Wielder. We still need his power. But we don't need his identity. His personality, his desires, his memories… they all get in the way. I am seeking to create a new Roxas without all the risks."

"A Keyblade-wielding machine, essentially."

"Precisely."

"But… there's no guarantee it will work, especially at this stage. And a failure could mean losing Roxas altogether. Then we would be without our Keyblade Wielder _and _our backup plan."

Xemnas turned to face his comrade with a reassuring smile. "You're quite right. But do not fear. I have alternative plans. All will be revealed when the time comes."

He should have known Xemnas wouldn't tell him everything. He wasn't even sure he could rely on the answers he got today. For all he knew, Xemnas had fabricated his entire presentation to conceal his true motives. "Yes, sir."

Saïx hoped that would be the end of the conversation and the Superior would leave, but Xemnas clearly had more to discuss, and it was a topic that Saïx dreaded having to address.

"What can you tell me about Axel?"

"Axel, sir?"

"Axel has been on our watch list for some time. He and Roxas are practically attached at the hip. With Roxas being put at risk, there is a possibility he will go rogue, should any unfortunate fate befall the boy."

Saïx could feel goosebumps rise on his skin beneath his heavy black coat. He knew exactly where Xemnas was going with this and he shuddered with the sense of foreboding such thoughts elicited. "We don't really talk much. I can't get much out of him. But, so far, he hasn't said anything alarming."

Images from the previous night bombarded his mind, rapidly flashing by like a film playing behind his eyes. Axel's infuriating sentimentality, the way he ran from the truth and sought to ruin all that was left of their relationship, the boiling heat of resentment rising Saïx's his chest as he watched him walk away again, all culminating in an overwhelming sensation of pressure building inside his head, throbbing painfully against his skull.

"Is that… bitterness I see?"

"No, sir. I… have a headache. It is merely a symptom of exhaustion."

Xemnas, in a surprisingly unconcerned and friendly gesture, took a seat in a nearby chair, beckoning Saïx to join him on the adjacent sofa. Saïx hesitated for several seconds before accepting the invitation. "So you and Axel are on shaky ground. I suppose it is for the best. It may become necessary to take action against him if his dedication wavers. You would of course be the one to eliminate him, should the need arise."

Saïx's stomach turned at this news. He knew why it had to be him — Xemnas was going to test his loyalty. Saïx exhausted the remainder of his mental discipline concealing his shock and outrage at the thought that Xemnas had any suspicions about him. For a moment, he was almost certain he felt the sharp talons of fear clamping onto his stomach, violently churning his insides, puncturing into his very flesh and draining the life out of him.

"Sir… Roxas defected before in a fit of rage. Axel didn't go with him, and in fact tried desperately to convince him to stay. I would say that is adequate proof of his loyalty. He wants a heart just as much as any one of us."

Xemnas softened his expression and flashed Saïx a warm smile. "Of course. Kingdom Hearts is his only hope. It would be foolhardy to abandon it. Besides, testing the loyalty of a comrade is something I have never felt the need to do. I find it deplorable, an emotional display from an insecure leader if there ever was one. However, the occasional pop quiz never hurts. With so little at stake, it's just enough for the teacher to assess whether or not the pupil understands the material, with no real consequences for either party."

It was as if Xemnas knew what Saïx was thinking and had drawn up his little monologue just to put him at ease. Saïx didn't buy a single word of it. Xemnas didn't test his subordinates out of insecurity, he did it so that he could rid himself of anyone who stood in the way of the Organization's goals. He didn't care about loyalty. He cared about completing Kingdom Hearts, and he would eliminate in cold blood anyone who interfered with his plans.

Rubbing his forehead with brows furrowed in discomfort, Saïx returned to his spot in front of the window, drawing power from the moon in the hopes that his mind would empty and his head would stop aching. Xemnas, taking notice of his plight, rose from his seat and followed his comrade with a look of mild, almost fatherly concern.

"If I may suggest… perhaps the moon would be more merciful if you indulged more often."

Saïx no longer had the energy to be surprised by the abrupt shifts in the conversation, now unfazed by Xemnas' astoundingly ill-advised suggestion. "It's dangerous, sir. I am responsible for more injuries and property damage than I care to contemplate."

Xemnas stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Could it be possible that the episodes will be less… intense… if they occurred with greater frequency? Relieve the pressure by letting out some of the air?"

"I really don't know. I've been unwilling to take the risk and test any theories."

Seeing the futility in his advice, Xemnas nodded and laid a hand on his shoulder in support as he turned to leave. "As I recall… you were quite an athlete before. Perhaps all you need is some exercise and fresh air. I recommend you spend the next full moon outdoors."

Saïx nodded, relieved that his Superior was finally on his way out. The pressure in his head was already beginning to release. "I'll take it into consideration, sir."

The moment Xemnas had left the room, Saïx heaved a sigh and sank into the sofa. For the first time today, he could look directly into the moon's glow and feel some semblance of peace. He closed his eyes, shocked to find that he was drifting away. He considered returning to his room for a nap, knowing full well he had nothing else to do, and that sleep had become such a precious commodity for him it would be foolish to pass it up. He decided against it, preferring to remain where he was, alone with the warm company of his thoughts, his memories, and the brightly shining moon. If sleep decided to take him here, he would not resist its advances. Then, Xigbar really would have reason to gossip.

* * *

Wonderland was always a guaranteed adventure for whomever the Organization assigned to visit. Roxas had discovered something new every time he arrived, each more fascinating than the last. In their search for the Emerald Serenade, Roxas and Luxord passed through a garden with flowers several times their size. The flowers were sentient, and when they weren't gossiping with each other, they were singing together as a chorus. It had been quite awhile since Roxas had heard music that didn't come from Demyx's sitar.

They left the garden, having encountered no Heartless inside, and made their way through a dark forest, following a winding path through the trees. Roxas scanned the woods for their target, mostly seeing native wildlife and not much else. He found a sign warning them of a creature called a 'mome rath' to be particularly amusing, secretly hoping that he might get a chance to see one.

Just when he was beginning to consider taking their search elsewhere, Roxas saw movement in the distance. He grabbed Luxord by the sleeve and dragged him behind a thick tree, taking cover while he squinted to identify the creature. He heaved a sigh of relief when he recognized it as their target.

"There's the Emerald Serenade!"

Luxord peered out from behind the tree to get a look at the Heartless. "Ah, you've found the bugger. How shall we proceed?"

Roxas thought for a moment. Emerald Serenades were generally harmless, but difficult to take down. Rather than attacking, they would run away at faster and faster speeds, and they took quite a beating before finally giving up the ghost. "Well… they're weak to magic. Magic is your thing, so you whittle it down and I'll take it out with my Keyblade."

"Excellent strategizing. The game begins!"

Roxas watched the creature for a few minutes, mapping out its trajectory in his head. Once he had memorized its path, he hid in a spot where he knew it would pass by, preparing for an ambush. Luxord tossed magic spells at the Heartless with his usual flourishes, performing lethal tricks with his cards until he'd reduced the creature's health enough for Roxas to finish it off.

"Now, Roxas!"

As soon as the Emerald Serenade was close enough, Roxas set the ambush in motion, leaping out from his hiding place and landing a critical hit on the Heartless with his Keyblade. It vanished in a puff of smoke, releasing a pink heart into the sky as it disappeared. As he sheathed his weapon, Luxord caught up with him, clapping his hands with a smile.

"Nice work! I think that takes care of this area. Let's head over to the other side."

They backtracked through the forest, heading back the way they came. The woods were eerily quiet, leading Roxas to wonder how such a large forest was inhabited by nothing other than one Emerald Serenade. They soon came to a fork in the path - one that they didn't encounter on their way in.

"Well, that's odd. I don't recall which way we came from."

"The path has changed. It didn't split before."

"Which way should we go, then?"

Before Roxas could answer, their brainstorming was interrupted by the sound of giggling. They searched all around for the source of the laughter, convinced they were alone when they saw nothing and no one around. The giggles continued, growing more sinister the longer it took for Roxas and Luxord to locate them. Finally, Luxord nudged Roxas on the shoulder, pointing at a nearby tree.

"Roxas, look. We've got company."

Sitting atop a low-hanging branch of the tree was a magenta striped cat with a haunting smile on its face. Roxas and Luxord had seen this particular cat before, and considered him more of a nuisance than an actual threat.

"You again?"

Upon being spotted, the cat's laughter stopped short, but it's frightening smile never wavered as it recited its riddles. "Are you the original, or the copy? Or perhaps you are both?"

"What?"

"In the mirror, which of you is the reflection?"

Roxas scratched his head, dumbfounded. The Cheshire Cat always spoke in riddles, but there was something different about its message this time. "Reflection…? What are you talking about?"

The cat vanished, only to reappear upside down in another tree. "Ahh, child of destiny, born of a child of destiny. One is two, and two are one. A pair which speaks with the same voice. In the unending struggle for a shared sense of self, who will win? Perhaps the gambler here will place a bet…"

Luxord backed away from the animal, refusing to address the cat and instead speaking to Roxas with a hushed whisper. "I feel stoned just talking to this guy."

The Cheshire Cat disappeared once again, rematerializing directly on the path in front of them. It addressed Roxas directly, entirely ignoring Luxord for the rest of the conversation. "All coins have two sides. But only one side can face upwards at a time. The other side must sleep until the coin is flipped. But who is it who flips the coin?"

"Do you speak in anything other than riddles?"

The cat flashed its numerous teeth and trotted down one side of the forked path, calling back behind him as he walked away from the pair. "He protects you, just as you protect him. Have you heard his call yet?"

"Whose call? What do you mean?"

The cat only grinned widely as it slowly faded out of sight. Roxas glanced all around to see if it had transported itself elsewhere as it had done before, but there was no sign of it anywhere. As he silently pondered the strange message the cheshire cat had delivered, Roxas felt a thrashing inside his abdomen, taking his breath away with a gasp of surprise. He froze in place, unsure of what had just happened. It soon struck again, as if something were twisting up his insides. He laid his hands over his belly, trying to see if he could feel the sensations from the outside.

"Roxas? Are you alright?" Luxord had rushed to his side with a worried look. Roxas took a moment before he had regained enough of his breath to answer him.

"Yeah, I'm fine…"

"What's the matter?"

Roxas let his hands slide all around his abdomen, waiting for it to happen again. Slowly, he began to understand what he was feeling. The entity was awake, and it was turning itself about inside of him. The force of it was nauseating, leaving him feeling winded after every jolt. "It's… it's moving…"

"Ah! How exciting! Is that not a good thing?"

"I don't really know…" Roxas winced as the entity jumped inside him again. The violent writhing made his stomach lurch, and he was certain he would be sick any moment.

Luxord steadied Roxas with a hand on his shoulder and a worried look. "You don't look well. Perhaps we should go back."

"Really, I'm fine. I can finish the mission."

"Saïx will have my head if I let anything happen to you. I can handle the rest here. Let's get you home."

Deciding this was not a battle he cared to fight, Roxas allowed Luxord to open a corridor of darkness, entering it without argument and soon arriving back in the Grey Area. Saïx took notice of his return as he lowered himself onto the sofa to catch his breath.

"Roxas. You've returned. Has something happened?"

"No, I'm fine. I just need to sit down."

Saïx stared at Roxas with a skeptical look, clearly unconvinced by his explanation. It didn't help that the entity flailed once more, and Roxas failed to suppress the hiss of his surprised gasp, biting back the ensuing nausea. Saïx approached him, getting far too close for Roxas' comfort. "Are you ill or in pain?"

"No, I'm just tired."

To his surprise, Saïx sat on the chair beside him, maintaining his doubtful expression and appealing to Roxas with exasperation. "Roxas, whatever is going on, it isn't worth the risk to ignore it. Go and see Zexion. Should you feel up to it, I will permit you to rejoin Luxord after you've been cleared."

"Saïx, I—"

His protest was cut off when the entity squirmed inside him again, knocking the wind out of him and bringing him dangerously close to vomiting. Dropping his head, he clenched his jaw and willed himself not to be sick, wheezing as he tried to replenish his lost air.

"Stay here, Roxas. I'll get Zexion."

"No need, I'm right here. What's wrong?"

Zexion surprised them both with his unexpected arrival, carrying a styrofoam coffee cup and a book. He rushed to the sofa, kneeling beside Roxas and peering apprehensively at his face. "Are you sick, Roxas?"

"No, I'm not sick. It's moving. It just started moving a few minutes ago and it won't stop."

"Really? Let me see, Roxas."

Sighing in defeat, Roxas leaned back and allowed Zexion to touch him. The apprentice laid his hands all over his abdomen, not missing a single inch of it. The entity continued to wriggle around inside him, to the point where he felt dizzy from his inability to draw breath. He covered his face, embarrassed to have this examination happening here, in full view of Saïx. He didn't want to give the man yet another reason to pull him off of mission work.

"Oh my… It's certainly a spirited little thing. Does it hurt, Roxas?"

"No, but I can barely breathe and I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

Zexion pressed his fingers into several places, most of the time eliciting more movement from the entity inside. With a pained grimace, Roxas clamped down onto his knuckles with his teeth and prayed for the examination to end. Just when he was ready to throw Zexion off of him, he felt the apprentice's hands finally lift away.

"Goodness, we've got quite a jumper here. I recommend getting some rest. It could be influenced by your activity, so there's a chance that if you relax, it will relax."

_As if I didn't already get enough rest… _"Thanks, Zexion."

"And make sure you're eating enough, and stay away from anything too acidic. Let's just cover all our bases while we're at it."

"I got it, Zexion. Thanks. I'll be in my room." With no choice but to do as he was told, Roxas slowly rose from the sofa and trudged out of the room with his shoulders slumped.

As soon as Roxas was gone, Saïx approached Zexion and questioned him in a hushed whisper. "Zexion… does this mean the entity now possesses consciousness?"

"I'm not certain. We'll have to observe and see if it responds to any other stimuli."

Zexion lowered himself onto the sofa and began flipping through the pages in his book, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I must say, for such a mysterious creature, it certainly does act like a regular old human fetus. I'll be shocked if it ends up being anything other than just a baby."

Saïx, who had returned his gaze to the window, whipped around to face Zexion with alarm on his face. "If that's the case… then we have only four months left to prepare."

"I'd say that's about right, assuming it follows the typical schedule. Xemnas insists on seeing this through to the end."

"And just what happens at the end?"

Zexion shrugged, "I haven't the foggiest idea. At this rate, I'd bet all my munny that it's going to look awfully familiar."

Saïx felt his stomach turn at this response. Although he was aware that they were referring to Roxas' condition as a "pregnancy," he would never have guessed it would conclude the way most human pregnancies do. It didn't seem possible. Roxas wasn't properly equipped. Perhaps he didn't need to be. Perhaps this entity would be cruel and violent enough to… Saïx put the sickening thought out of his mind.

"Zexion, I'll be including your observations in my report to Xemnas. With any luck, perhaps we can convince him to put a stop to this before it reaches its… natural conclusion."

"Don't forget, Saïx… Whether or not we intervene, removing it could drain Roxas of his very essence. Nothing is certain, but maybe that natural conclusion is the only way to keep Roxas intact."

"Do you have any suggestions?"

Zexion paused for several moments, glancing at the ceiling, deep in thought. "I'm afraid not. I just don't have enough information to determine which is the more humane course of action at this time. But there is one thing we should consider…"

"What is it?"

"No one has asked Roxas what he wants to do."

Saïx, rendered speechless by the uncomfortable truth in Zexion's words, lowered his eyes and stared at the floor. He had a hell of a point. All this time was spent discussing what to do with Roxas, yet not a second of it was spared for Roxas' opinion. It was as if his body were declared property of the Organization and Roxas had no autonomy of his own. He was nothing more than a vessel to be occupied at Xemnas' command. It sounded quite familiar — too familiar. The thought brought a bitter taste to Saïx's mouth, and a shooting pain flashed across his forehead. Wincing, he pressed his fingers over the burning X between his eyes, disturbed by the cloudy memories racing into his mind. Just a vessel. An empty husk. Forced to house the essence of another. Deplorable.

"Are you alright, Saïx?"

"Yes. I have a report to write. Enjoy your break."

Saïx hurried out of the room and made his way toward the Hall of Empty Melodies. Xemnas' words rang in his ears. Fresh air and exercise? Fresh air was out of the question, but exercise was no problem. To his relief, the room was unoccupied. Once he arrived, Saïx wasted no time taking his frustrations out on the hordes of Dusks he summoned. One by one he swung his weapon at stronger and stronger Nobodies, desperately trying to forget the conversation with Xemnas, the encounter with Axel, and the frightening truth of Roxas' fate. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so overwhelmed.

Despite his efforts, the sound of his claymore crashing into his opponents wasn't loud enough to drown out the menacing sound of his Superior's subtle threats. The blinding flash of sparks as metal clashed with metal couldn't outshine the haunting image of the hurt in Axel's eyes. The cooling sensation of sweat pouring down his skin and the exhilaration of the pounding in his chest weren't enough to quell the nauseating thought of having to share one's own body with another, watching their own will be swallowed by a hostile parasite.

With every swing, he got more worked up. The call of the berserk tempted him but he refused to succumb. That was what Xemnas wanted, and Saïx wasn't about to let him have his way. After nearly an hour of high-intensity combat, the voices still hadn't ceased, and Saïx collapsed to his knees on the floor, frantically covering his ears to block out the terrifying sound of his own thoughts. The more he tried to ignore them, the louder they shouted. He was trapped. Imprisoned inside the clutches of hopelessness and regret. How long had it been since he'd felt emotions like these? They clasped tightly around his throat, threatening to choke the life out of him. He willfully submitted to their brutality, welcoming the end to his suffering. But, in yet another act of cruelty, they released their hold, forcing him to live another torturous day with the agony of yearning for freedom. Trapped. He was hopelessly trapped. Nobody was coming to save him this time.


	14. A Second Helping

"Hit me."

The next card was the queen of clubs.

"Twenty-six. Dealer wins."

Xigbar threw up his hands in frustration. "Ugh! I swear you're stacking the deck."

Luxord chuckled at his friend's unfortunate luck. "Nonsense! You're just bad at this."

Xigbar began to pour another round of shots. "It's a game of chance! How can I be bad at it?"

"There's _some_ strategy involved."

Luxord went into a lengthy explanation of gameplay strategy for the game of Blackjack while Xigbar passed out the drinks. Axel tuned out their conversation and listened to Demyx noodle on his sitar. The kid was at least four shots in and sitting upside down on the sofa again with his head hanging off the cushion. As usual, his playing was unaffected by his intoxication and his fingers flew up and down the neck of his instrument effortlessly, never missing a note.

"Man, I'm bored. We should go out! Hit the town!"

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Are you kidding? I'm just getting started!" Surprisingly, Demyx downed his drink without choking, never rising from his inverted position. Luxord dealt another hand, including Axel on this round, laying down the deck and waiting for Xigbar's call. Axel chugged his drink in solidarity for Demyx, appreciating his youthful energy.

"Heh, I'm with ya Demyx, but these two old folks here wouldn't be able to keep up with us."

"Ouch! Xigbar did you hear what the young whippersnapper called us?"

"You rotten kids, get off my lawn!"

They burst into laughter as they completed the hand of Blackjack. Much to everyone's surprise, Xigbar won with twenty one at last. He pumped his fist into the air victoriously, and was just uncorking his liquor bottle to pour another celebratory round of shots when they heard the sound of footsteps. Everyone instantly became tense and an apprehensive hush fell over the group. They were occupying Saïx's usual nighttime spot, each now growing wary that it was he who would soon enter the room. There was then a collective sigh of relief as Zexion came in, approaching the group cautiously with a shy look on his face.

"Zexion! Fancy seeing you here!" Axel called out to him, waving him over to their gathering spot.

"Zexion?!" Demyx abruptly reversed his position to upright, wavering as all the blood rushed out of his head. Before anyone could react, he fell forward off the sofa and onto the floor. Not a single one of the group could be bothered to come to his aid, shocking Zexion as he hurried over to lift him up.

"Well, don't everyone rush over at once!" Demyx chided them for their inaction as Zexion helped him back into the sofa. "Thanks a lot, _friends_ ."

"Eh, you're not hurt. Zexion, let me pour you a drink!"

Zexion seated himself on the sofa next to Demyx, prepared to catch him should he fall again. "No thanks. I don't drink."

"Ah, right, I forgot. You don't believe in fun."

Zexion rolled his eyes at Xigbar's comment. Axel leaned back in his chair, trying to conceal his eager anticipation of the inevitable conversation regarding Demyx and Zexion. Zexion was rarely seen out and about at night, and he certainly had never come to join them before. With a polite smile, Axel decided to break the ice himself. "So, what brings you to these parts at this late hour?"

Zexion lowered his gaze, rubbing his fingers along his forehead. "I came to clear my head. I've been staring at that screen for hours… My eyes hurt."

"Shall I deal you in? The game is Blackjack."

"I think I'll quietly observe. I've had enough numbers for the evening."

As they lounged and conversed, time seemed to race by. An hour passed, but each of them could have sworn it had only been minutes. Luxord and Xigbar changed their game to something Axel didn't recognize. Being too drunk to learn a new game, Axel listened to Demyx's music while staring at the ceiling some more. Despite having had several more drinks, his playing was no less virtuosic as he casually strummed the strings with incredible speed. Zexion watched Demyx's hands sweep up and down his instrument in awe, impressed by his keen accuracy.

"So Zexion, do you play any instruments?"

Zexion fidgeted slightly with embarrassment. "Well, uh… I did learn to play the piano as a child, but—"

"No way! You can play the keys?! We should jam sometime!"

"No, no, Demyx, it's been years. I'm sure I can't even remember how to play anymore."

Demyx shrugged, "Never know unless you try. Maybe it's like riding a bike and you never really forget."

"Maybe so. But I doubt I'll ever really have the opportunity anyway."

Demyx heaved a defeated sigh, disappointed that the Organization would have such a huge castle with so many rooms, yet no piano. He had thought pianos were just a standard castle staple.

"What about you, Axel? You know how to play anything?"

"Me? Heck no. I don't have the patience for that sort of thing."

"That's not what I heard." Xigbar chimed in, to their surprise. "My sources tell me that you not only know your way around a guitar, but you're a closet songbird with an angelic set of pipes."

Axel's face and ears flushed, nearly matching the shade of his fiery mane. "And just where did you hear that?"

Xigbar laughed, miming the action of pulling a zipper closed across his lips. "Trade secret. That information's classified."

Axel scoffed, crossing his arms. "Lies and slander, every word of it."

"As if! You were in a garage band! You were the front man! And another Organization member was the bass player. Gosh, I wish I could remember who it was…"

Axel raised his hands in defeat, completely baffled by Xigbar's secret knowledge of his childhood recreational activities. They amounted to little more than glorified jam sessions, but they served as a fun creative outlet at the time, before Lea and Isa developed a curiosity for the goings on in Ansem's castle. "Okay, okay, all right. You got me. But that was a long time ago."

Demyx stared, mouth agape, at Axel, stunned by this unexpected plot twist. "Axel, you've been holding out on me!" He practically shouted, incredulously. "Do you know how lonely is to always have to play by yourself? Who's the other guy?!"

Xigbar lowered his voice to almost a whisper, "I'll give you a hint… it starts with an 'S' and rhymes with 'Buzzkill.'"

Axel glared at him, not wanting to be the guy who had to endure Saïx's wrath if he ever found out they were gossiping about him. For all they knew, he was standing just outside the door, listening to every word they said. Demyx took a few seconds to catch on to Xigbar's joke, giggling when he finally understood. "I'd have never thought him to be a musician."

"We weren't musicians. We were just kids playing around. Stop getting his hopes up, Xigbar."

"All right, all right, lighten up, man. Truce."

There was silence for awhile. Luxord and Xigbar were still absorbed in their card game, Axel sank into the soft cushion of his chair, fighting to stay awake, and Demyx had returned to playing his sitar, oblivious to the fact that Zexion had scooted a hair closer to him. Without any warning, he abruptly stopped his playing with an audible gasp.

"You guys, I have an idea."

"Everybody take cover. Demyx has an idea."

"Come on, hear me out!"

Axel sighed before reluctantly giving him the floor. "Okay. We're listening."

"We should start a band."

"What?!" The group shouted in disbelief before erupting into giggles.

"Seriously! I think we've got all this pent-up creative energy but no outlet. Aren't you the least bit curious how we'd sound?"

"Bad. We'd sound bad."

"Oh come on! We've already got two guitars, bass, keys, vocals… just gotta find a drummer, really. Luxord? Xigbar?"

Xigbar smirked, raising an eyebrow at Luxord. "Well, Luxord's got rhythm, that's for sure. But it's not the kind you're looking for…"

The group succumbed to laughter again. Not disheartened in the slightest, Demyx shrugged off their banter and returned his attention to his sitar. As their laughs died down, they were soon replaced by yawns and outstretched arms.

"Hoo boy. It's late. I'm off to get some shuteye. Demyx, you follow your dreams, kid. They're a precious thing. Don't let anyone take them away from you."

Xigbar's oddly inspirational remarks were met with wide-eyed stares from the entire group. He was usually so laid-back and carefree that it was jarring to see his sentimental side. Demyx was taken aback by his almost fatherly advice, but knowing that his unexpected mood shift was all due to the booze made it all the more heartwarming. Demyx was well aware that alcohol doesn't make one tell lies, but truths, and he couldn't help but smile at Xigbar's sudden affectionate outburst.

"Uh… thanks, Xiggy."

Xigbar collected his liquor and glasses and sent a surprisingly sincere-looking smile to the young musician. "See ya, sport. Luxord, care to join me?"

Luxord flashed him a sly grin. "I was hoping I could practice my _drumming_ with someone."

"Haha! All right, Gershwin, let's go see who's got rhythm."

Luxord collected his cards and the two of them sauntered out the door holding hands. Axel, chuckling, turned his attention to the pair left on the sofa, eager to grill them on their own bedroom activities, but keeping his distance, treading carefully around the shy novice. Zexion, with a puzzled expression, voiced his curiosity about the two men, much to Axel's delight.

"Were they…?"

"Oh yes. Aren't they cute?"

Zexion opened his mouth but uttered no words. Axel, squealing on the inside, casually gave him the rundown with a knowing smile. "I suppose since you're a newbie, you might not be aware of the goings on behind closed doors. You see, Zexion, when it comes to… physical gratification, our options are quite limited, seeing as there are only thirteen of us. We've learned not to be picky. Most of us have… sampled the buffet, if you will."

Zexion raised an eyebrow at him, arms crossed, unamused by his patronizing explanation.

"I was a virgin, Axel, not a moron."

Axel, hands up in surrender, conceded Zexion's argument. "All right, I didn't give you enough credit. So you know that we've all gotten around. But, that doesn't mean some of us don't have our favorites. Let me tell ya, even if I absolutely hate someone's guts, you'll find me knocking on their door every night if they're the best man for the job. So don't worry if you find that you prefer just one 'dish' for awhile."

Zexion couldn't believe what he was hearing. How on earth did Axel know exactly what he was thinking and exactly what to say to put him at ease? He sighed with relief, relaxing some and leaning on Demyx, who appeared to be passed out with his mouth hanging open. Axel leaned in and whispered under his breath to the young scientist.

"That being said… a new flavor has been added to the menu. I'm intrigued."

Zexion, blushing, lowered his eyes, wondering just what he had gotten himself into. He never wanted to make himself into a cut of fresh meat to be sampled by the entire Organization. Still, he knew Axel meant him no harm, and his objectifying statements were clearly designed to quiet the newcomer's anxieties. Zexion appreciated the man's thoughtful advice, even if he did have some ulterior motives of his own. Perhaps one day he might take Axel up on his offer, but this would not be that day. Zexion had his eye on another 'dish.'

"Heh.. there's no rush. When you're ready, I'll be honored to show you the ropes." Axel chortled at Zexion's endearing fondness for Demyx. "Bring him along, we'll have a party."

Axel began to yawn and stretch, surprised to find that he actually felt tired. All this talk of pleasurable company tempted him, but it was a rare treat to get any sleep these days, so he pledged to seize the opportunity if ever it arose.

"Well, I'm calling it. Time for bed," He croaked mid-stretch, rising from his chair. "You kids behave yourselves and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He lazily ambled to the entryway, looking forward to the comfort of his soft bed. Just before he exited, Zexion called out to him.

"Axel!"

Zexion wracked his brain for the right words with which to express his gratitude. In his nervousness, he settled on the simplest articulation.

"Thanks."

Axel smiled back at him before heading out the door with a wave. "Have fun."

Demyx had spent the better part of an hour resting his eyes as his head spun from his drunkenness. He appeared to be asleep, but unbeknownst to Zexion and Axel, he heard every word of their conversation. He was both elated and relieved to learn that Zexion was feeling drawn to him, but in honoring his code, he decided to keep it to himself and play dumb. He remained still, continuing his charade as he felt Zexion's eyes on him.

"Are you okay, Demyx? How much have you had?"

Demyx said nothing, only responding with a comically loud snore. Zexion giggled, pleased that he was still awake. Competing for Demyx's attention with determination, Zexion reached for his leg and squeezed his thigh seductively, leaning in with arousal in his eyes. Demyx had no sooner lifted his head than Zexion pulled him in by the collar and kissed him with urgency and passion. He began to unzip Demyx's coat and caress his bare chest as their tongues danced together inside their mouths. Demyx had never seen Zexion so feral before. He could feel the heat coming off of his skin.

"Whoa, whoa, Zexion… someone could come in any minute. Let's take this upstairs…"

"I need you now…"

"You can have me. Follow me to my room and I'm all yours."

"Then hurry."

He practically yanked Demyx off the sofa and dragged him out of the room in his haste. They rushed up the stairs and bolted to Demyx's room. The second they were through the door, Zexion pinned Demyx against the wall and resumed their kiss, refusing to pull away even as they tore off their coats and gloves and let them fall to the floor. Restraining Demyx's wrists, Zexion let his mouth wander to his cheek, then along his jaw and down his neck, his plump lips bringing chills to Demyx's skin. Hard as stone, Zexion rolled his hips into Demyx's, thrilled to find him just as stiff. He trailed his hands along Demyx's arms and down his glistening torso to grip him tightly through the thick leather of his pants. His grasp elicited a raspy, barely audible moan from his lover, who pulled Zexion in for another powerful kiss. His hands explored Zexion's youthful figure as he allowed himself to be stroked through his pants, throbbing with anticipation.

When he could stand it no more, Demyx broke the kiss and lowered Zexion by the shoulders until he knelt in front of him. Zexion wasted no time freeing him from the confines of his uncomfortable leather uniform and hungrily taking him into his mouth. Demyx threw his head back, failing to hold back a loud moan as he was overtaken by the intense pleasure. He dug his fingers into the wall behind him, panting heavily as Zexion's tongue dragged up and down the length of him. Much to his surprise and confusion, the supposed rookie handled him like a pro, quickly reading his reactions and changing his technique accordingly.

"I thought… you haven't done this before…"

Zexion looked up at him with a lustful smolder, brushing his fingertips up and down Demyx's erection while he spoke. "I haven't. I'm a mimic. I'm just doing what you did."

"You… learn quickly…"

"I'm a scientist. I should hope that I do."

He ended the conversation by wrapping his lips around Demyx once more. Demyx bit his lip to stifle his moans and whimpers. He fought to keep still as his muscles spasmed with ecstasy. The novice didn't even flinch when Demyx grasped him tightly by the hair and forced himself deeply into his mouth. He graciously accommodated the entirety of Demyx's size with no trouble, a trick even Demyx hadn't mastered.

After greedily devouring Demyx for several minutes, Zexion could no longer contain his arousal. He rose to his feet, and Demyx started to unzip his lover's pants while softly planting his teeth in his neck and shoulder. The uncharacteristically persistent scientist whispered in Demyx's ear in a deep, breathy voice, each word burning with desperation.

"I need you…"

His plea set Demyx off, and he pushed Zexion across the room, nearly throwing him onto the bed. He stripped the remaining clothes off of the apprentice, parted his thighs, and entered him with a forceful grunt. Zexion's euphoric cries echoed in the air, music to Demyx's ears. He suspended himself over his lover, drinking in every feature of his pained expression; the ravenous look in his watering eyes, the glint of his gritted teeth, and the crimson flush of his cheeks. He leaned down until he hung just inches from Zexion's face, listening intently to his soft whimpers and heavy breathing. Zexion clawed impatiently at his back, drawing him closer until he could taste his warm lips, reluctant to break the kiss even to come up for air.

Demyx threw almost his entire body weight into each powerful slam of his hips. Zexion winced at every plunge, his sensual moans joining with the chorus of Demyx's deep grunting. Overcome by desire, Zexion shoved Demyx off of him, making space for his hands to explore his lover's body while aggressively pleasuring himself. Demyx, never missing a beat, accompanied Zexion's rapid strokes with impassioned thrusts, driving into him with unforgiving pace and animalistic fervor.

The young novice was much more relaxed in this encounter, but no less narrow. The feeling of Zexion tightly closing around Demyx was almost too much. He fell forward onto his hands, his imposing form towering over his partner. He gripped the sheets as he approached his breaking point, clenching his jaw as the waves of ecstasy began rolling through him.

Zexion watched attentively as Demyx began to succumb to the pleasure, his arousal heightening at every sign his lover exhibited. The ever-accelerating pace of his heavy breathing, the involuntary flexing of his musculature, and the picture of raw desirous agony on his face nearly did Zexion in, but he held back, having different plans for when he reached his own finish line. With a sultry gaze, he guided Demyx's head down until he could feel his warm breath on his cheek. Zexion advanced on him with his mouth, but did not kiss him, instead brushing his lips against Demyx's in a vicious tease, tracing the shape of his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

Demyx lost control almost immediately, sinking himself deeply into Zexion with a series of loud grunts and moans. The intensity of his climax was overwhelming, and his vision went dark momentarily as the spasms jolted through his body. He pulsed inside Zexion with a powerful sensation of release, so strong that his arms threatened to collapse beneath him. When the waves finally died down, he removed himself and sat back on his heels, panting and wiping sweat from his brow.

"Whew… okay… your turn…"

Still rock solid, Zexion rose to his feet and stood authoritatively beside the bed, giving Demyx a seductive and commanding look. Quickly deciphering Zexion's message, Demyx grinned with excitement. "I see, you want to try now? I'll make it easy for you. Show me your moves."

He turned over onto his hands and knees, eagerly presenting himself for Zexion. Zexion approached him cautiously, hesitating as he took hold of him by the hips, grinding himself against Demyx's backside.

"Come on, dude, don't be shy!"

Snapping out of his anxious spiral and working up the courage to move forward, he began to penetrate Demyx, very slowly. Fireworks went off inside him at the pleasurable constricting sensation as he gradually eased the entire length of himself inside the musician. The intensity blinded him and his breaths ceased altogether as every muscle in his body tensed in reaction to Demyx's tight grasp around him. Lying comfortably on the mattress, Demyx moaned softly at Zexion's presence, enjoying the feeling of the newcomer's gentle and deliberate style.

Zexion's movements remained slow and meticulous, giving himself time to process every sensation. His unstifled gasps and grunts exposed his enjoyment, and he tightened his grip on Demyx's hips in an effort to contain himself.

"Heh… you can pick up the pace, Zexion. I'm not gonna break."

"I'm not hurting you?"

"Of course not. You're about to put me to sleep! Rough me up a little, man. I can take it."

Zexion, appreciating his critique, followed his advice. As the night drew on, he let Demyx guide him until he developed a rhythm of his own. No matter how long Zexion stayed inside him, Demyx's firm hold on him never faltered. The squeezing sensation was agonizing in its intensity, and Zexion found it difficult to suppress the familiar mounting pressure building up inside of him. The closer he came to the edge, the faster he thrusted, and his shallow breaths accelerated in turn. He stiffened further at the sound of Demyx's moaning and whimpering, rising in volume as Zexion increased his speed. Demyx had his head pressed into the mattress, clenching his fists as the vibrations washed over him, taking notice of Zexion's newfound enthusiasm.

"Hey, man, if you're gonna come, just warn me first, alright? I've seen the size of your loads; I don't want to be surprised."

Zexion paused, reining himself in as he processed Demyx's request. He wanted to know ahead of time, but how far ahead of time? Zexion had experienced all of two orgasms in his waking life. What if he didn't recognize it? What if he couldn't tell it was happening at all? What if he _did_ recognize it but too late?

"Okay… I'll try…"

Demyx giggled at the young novice's anxiety, quickly reassuring him to ease his nerves. "Heh.. don't stress, dude. You'll know. But I can usually tell, too. Now, get busy."

Zexion set aside his fears and resumed his thrusting. The pressure and euphoria returned immediately, spreading through his body like an electric current, just as it had before. Spasms rose in his core and, panicking, he stopped again. Demyx called out to him, mildly concerned. "You good? What's up?"

"I think I'm close…"

Demyx chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, don't stop now, dude! Finish the job!"

Biting his lip in concentration, Zexion focused intently on the sensations in his body, watching for the signs as he worked up toward the inevitable crash. The current buzzing beneath his skin amplified to an excruciating degree, and the pressure inside him threatened to explode. When he was certain he'd reached the edge, he gave Demyx his warning.

"Okay Demyx, I'm going to come…"

"Go for it, dude!"

Almost immediately, Zexion let go of his tension and allowed himself to be overwhelmed once more. The pressure released and he was awash in ecstasy. He buried himself deep into Demyx as he came with such force that his ears popped. He strained his voice with his shuddering moans and sighs. The powerful spasms in his muscles took several more seconds before finally subsiding and he slowed his thrusts to a gradual stop at last. Winded and dizzy, he remained still after pulling out of Demyx, recovering from the intensity of his climax.

"Nice, man! Not bad!"

Demyx crawled away from him and flipped onto his back, relaxing on the cool sheets and flashing his winsome smile at Zexion. The novice stood frozen and speechless, prompting the musician to take him by the wrist and guide him onto the bed with a giggle.

"Sit down before you hurt yourself."

Demyx took off toward the bathroom, leaving Zexion to rest there, catching his breath, alone with his thoughts. Except he had no thoughts. His mind had been completely wiped from the moment he reached his climax. He found it refreshing to finally have all the numbers and equations and calculations be silenced, if only for a little while. He could certainly get used to this.

"Demyx… is it always like that?"

"Like what?"

Demyx had returned, tossing a towel at Zexion and returning to his place on the bed beside him. Zexion, struggling to articulate what he wanted to say, raised his fists to his temples and mimed the image of one's head exploding. Demyx laughed for several seconds before finally regaining the breath to answer him.

"Ha! No, it's not always like that. Enjoy it while it lasts!"

They laid next to each other in silence for a long while, recovering from their encounter, staring out the window at the moon. Neither man was willing to say what he was thinking, minding the code Demyx had set during their first encounter. They stole glances at each other whenever they thought the other wasn't looking, eventually being discovered and locking eyes briefly before quickly averting their gaze.

"Well, I'm pretty wiped. I'm gonna crash. Goodnight, bro!"

Demyx rolled over and closed his eyes, waiting to see if Zexion would stay or go. When he felt him getting up to leave, he turned around and reached for him, laying a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. When Zexion didn't protest, Demyx scooted up behind him, dragging his fingertips up and down his arm and brushing his lips across his neck, hoping to convince him to stay.

Zexion, taken aback, remained motionless. Demyx's touch sent chills down his spine, and much to his absolute shock, he found himself stiffening yet again. He longed to turn his head and kiss him, but was reluctant to break one of Demyx's rules.

"Demyx… what happened to not making it weird?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

Zexion turned to look at him. The smoldering desire in Demyx's eyes drew him in, and try as he might, he simply couldn't resist.

"Absolutely not."


	15. Vulnerable

The walls were just as bright and colorless as Axel remembered. He had spent countless hours sitting on the clock tower staring almost directly at the sun itself, but he considered looking at these blinding white walls to be far more painful on the eyes. He allowed Roxas to walk a few paces ahead of him, wary of letting the boy out of his sight.

"Well, Roxas, this is Castle Oblivion."

Roxas stared all around and could only note just how blank and empty the place looked. The castle felt familiar, but he couldn't place where he might have seen it. His memories were still full of holes, but he was almost certain he had been here before.

"It's so… bright."

"Yeah… get ready for a lot of _this_."

Roxas ascended the staircase and entered the only other set of doors in the room. Upon crossing the threshold, he found himself in a room completely identical to the one he'd just left. He scanned the walls for any differences, or just anything notable at all, but room after room left him with only the same nauseatingly bright walls.

The more steps he climbed, the more disoriented he became. Unfamiliar images flashed through his head at random intervals, blurry like those of a dream. He recognized himself in them, but had no recollection of what he was doing. Every door he opened seemed to let more of these pictures flood into him, pounding through his forehead as if physically trying to puncture his skull to reach his mind.

His eyes grew sore, his head ached, and many times he needed to stop and cover his face to block out the burning light. The bombardment of hazy images wore him down little by little. Axel stayed close by, growing increasingly apprehensive the deeper they dove in.

"Roxas, do you want to go back? You really don't look so good."

"We have a mission. They think that lost heart is just floating around in here somewhere. And I want my memories back."

"Okay, but—"

"I'm fine. It's just the bright walls… they're making me dizzy, that's all. Let's keep going."

Axel had no choice but to let Roxas continue further into the castle. A weaker man might have gone mad from the endless trek through the same room over and over, but Roxas showed surprising determination as he dragged himself up staircase after staircase. It reminded Axel of another boy who had endured this same journey in search of a false illusion, only things didn't go so well for him. Nevertheless, that boy's misfortune was the reason Roxas was still here beside him today, and Axel wasn't about to risk losing him again.

Roxas had lost count of the number of times he entered the same piercing white room, growing more nauseous by the second. The odd hallucinations flashed more brightly and rapidly behind his eyes, and finally the vertigo became too much. Disoriented, Roxas stopped his ascent, intending only to catch his breath and stop the spinning.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pain tore through his abdomen, so intense and powerful that it brought him to his knees with an agonized cry. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, as if an unseen force was stabbing him from the inside. Everything went dark, finally ending the barrage of blurry images and snuffing out the burning light of the endlessly repeating rooms.

"Roxas!"

Axel raced to his side, kneeling down to see his friend's face. Roxas hung his head, whimpering as he clenched his fists against the smooth flooring. Axel supposed he should have known this would happen again, but still found himself panicking as he watched his friend go down in pain once more, courtesy of these damned castle walls.

"What's going on…? Everything is dark…"

"Roxas, we're getting out of here. Let's go."

Axel didn't hesitate, quickly opening a corridor of darkness and lifting Roxas to his feet. Doubled over and leaning heavily on his friend, Roxas staggered out of the castle and soon the two were back in the Grey Area. Axel carefully guided him into the hallway to head for the lab. They only made it a few steps before he fell down again, collapsing onto his side completely unconscious.

"Roxas! Can you hear me? Roxas!"

Frantically shaking his friend's shoulder and calling out to him, Axel didn't notice Saïx approaching the two.

"What happened?"

With a seething glare, Axel shouted furiously at the man who had ordered Roxas on the mission that left him in this state in the first place. "Exactly what I said would happen! He collapsed just like last time!"

Saïx made no outward reaction to the news. With the same cold stare, he nudged Axel out of the way and effortlessly lifted Roxas from the floor. Without a word, he carried Roxas to the lab with Axel following closely behind. As Saïx gently laid the unconscious Roxas on the examination table, Axel leaned over his friend, desperately calling out to him in a futile effort to rouse him.

"Wake up, Roxas! Open your eyes!"

Vexen and Zexion, who heard the commotion from a side room in the back, rushed in and surrounded Roxas, immediately collecting equipment and performing tests. Axel watched helplessly as they laid their hands all over his friend, lying motionless on a cold metal table under bright lights and noisy machines.

"What's wrong with him?!"

"We don't know, Axel, we're trying to—"

"Why won't he wake up?!"

"Axel, please, just give us time—"

"Just tell me if he's going to be okay!"

"Saïx, get him out of here…"

"How long until you know something?!"

"Lea!" Axel felt a firm hand on his shoulder, accompanied by a familiar stern voice. "Come outside. You are in their way."

"No! I'm not leaving him!"

"Let them work, Lea. You will only slow them down." Saïx pulled Axel's arm, escorting him out of the room. He was quite strong, but Axel struggled the whole way out.

The second they were back in the hallway, Axel wrestled out of Saïx's grasp, fuming. He was always a hothead, but had cooled considerably since becoming a Nobody. Now, the feeling of real, pure anger boiled in his veins. There was only one other time when he recalled losing his temper like this since joining the Organization, and just thinking about that day fanned the flames in his chest. He paced the floor while lashing out at Saïx, who stood with his same blank expression, unfazed by Axel's tantrum.

"I warned you, Isa! I told you it wasn't safe to take him there!"

"Calm down, Lea. There's no sense getting worked up—"

"This experiment is killing him! How could you let it go this far?!"

"No one could have predicted—"

"What the hell were you thinking ordering him to Castle Oblivion?!"

Saïx, having lost his patience, finally raised his voice in response to Axel's accusations. "My hands were tied, Lea! It was a direct order from Xemnas! You knew this!"

"How much longer, Isa? How many more victims will it take? How much more blood on your hands? How many more atrocities will you sign off on before you come to your senses?!"

"Keep your voice down, Lea…"

"And this time it was someone I care about and you just couldn't resist! You had the perfect opportunity to take a shot at me and you couldn't pass it up!"

"Don't be ridiculous! I have argued on Roxas' behalf every day since this started!"

"Spare me your false conscience, Isa! It's too little, too late!"

Axel stopped just short of taking Saïx by the throat and squeezing the life out of him. It took all of his self control to keep from casting a wall of flames around him in a blind rage. With a furious cry, he summoned a flaming chakram and tossed it at a nearby vase, shattering it on contact. Finally having let off a little steam, he dismissed his weapon and, panting, sank to the floor in despair. His anger slowly faded, and all that was left in its place was pain.

"We're supposed to be without hearts… we're not supposed to be able to feel… why, Isa? Why do I hurt this bad? How is it possible?"

Saïx approached cautiously and knelt beside him, softening his tone. "It's not real, Lea. Those feelings are just illusions from your memories. You mustn't let them fool you."

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain they aren't real, Isa? They feel pretty damn real to me!"

Saïx looked inward, searching for an answer and coming up short. He was stunned to see the pain on Axel's face, as strong and real as it was when he was human. It made no sense. Their hearts had been stolen years ago, and they were incapable of the emotions Axel was displaying. How was it that he could emit such a feeling now, so sincerely and with such intensity?

Axel looked to his old friend, hoping to see a glimmer of emotion in his eyes, only to find nothing but the same dead stare he wore every day since that scar was carved into his face. Axel winced at the painful memory of that day, pushing it back to the farthest recesses of his mind and focusing instead on something Saïx said during their quarrel that caught his attention.

"Is it true… that you've been arguing for Roxas all this time?"

It was that question that brought Axel what he was searching for. He saw it for only a split second, but that glimpse confirmed his suspicions. Something broke the ice in Saïx's expression. It was subtle and brief, but unmistakable.

"Yes, I have. I have protested this horrendous experiment from day one."

"Why?"

"Because it's cruel and inhumane. I'm not a monster, Lea."

Saïx joined Axel as they sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. They were silent for a while, as Axel was still processing the shock of what he was hearing from Saïx's mouth. He had shown Roxas mercy. He pitied Roxas, even sympathized with him. Axel thought a heart was required for those types of sentiments.

"You can't tell me you don't feel anything, Isa. I've seen it in your eyes. Tiny flashes of emotion. Why do you shut them out?"

Saïx stared into space, refusing to make eye contact. "Because they aren't real."

"Damn it, Isa, I know you don't believe that!"

"Lea…"

"That night was real. I know you felt something then. And on the next one, too. Don't tell me all that meant nothing to you."

Saïx turned to his friend with scorn on his face. "We had sex, Lea. How was it any different from your other encounters?"

"You really have to ask?"

There was silence again as Saïx avoided the question. Axel supposed he should give him a break. If Saïx had truly felt something during their evening engagements, he wouldn't have been the only one.

"Lea… Surely you understand the pain of watching a friend walk away. The bitter sting of losing someone you care about. If you had a choice, would you choose to endure it again?"

Axel dropped his head, staring at the floor, dumbstruck by Saïx's words, laced together with resentment and hurt. The wound from the memory of Roxas taking off and forgetting their friendship was still fresh, and it stung just as bitterly as Saïx described. He'd have never guessed that beneath the cold exterior of his blank expression, Saïx was nursing his own wounds all the while.

"Isa…"

"Don't waste your feigned remorse on me, Lea. After all, I don't have a heart to break."

Axel could no longer think of anything he could possibly say in response to Saïx's final words. Remorse was not an adequate term to describe what he felt at that moment. The two sat against the wall for what felt like hours, never looking at each other and not speaking at all. Finally, the door to the lab opened and Zexion peered out. Axel practically leapt to his feet to hear his report.

"Roxas is alright. There was an enormous influx of memories that overwhelmed him. The overload affected the vessel inside him and it seems there was some tug-of-war between the two, but we've managed to stabilize them both."

"Is he awake?"

"No, he will likely sleep the rest of the night. Saïx… I hate to do this, but I recommend bed rest for the remainder of this gestation. Sending him anywhere is just too risky."

Saïx responded with only a nod. After sharing a brief glance with Axel, he turned and proceeded down the hall and out of sight. Axel fought to suppress the urge to follow him, instead watching him go with what he could only describe as sadness inside him.

"Can I see him?"

Zexion ushered Axel into the lab where Roxas was lying on a reclining hospital-grade cot. He appeared to be sleeping soundly, like nothing had gone wrong. As if knowing exactly what he needed, Zexion slid a chair over to him so that he could sit beside his friend. As he watched Roxas, quiet and still again, the same pangs of guilt from before stabbed through his chest. He wanted desperately to talk to Roxas, but could think of nothing to say.

To his surprise, he heard the scraping of a second chair being dragged next to him. Zexion quietly seated himself in the chair, joining him in observing Roxas. Axel only felt worse when remembering his outburst from earlier.

"Zexion, I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize, Axel. You were upset. I understand the reaction."

Axel smiled meekly at him, grateful for his patience and forgiveness. He turned back to Roxas, mesmerized by the steady rise and fall of his chest. In the peaceful quiet, he got lost in thought, dwelling on his conversation with Saïx. Painful memories raced to the forefront of his mind, refusing to be buried again no matter how he tried to forget them. Thankfully, he was jerked from his trance by Zexion's voice.

"Axel, I've been thinking a lot about what you said."

"Hmm?"

"About, uh… having favorites."

With a knowing smile, Axel leaned in to fully engage in the conversation. "I see. You're feeling pretty attached to your favorite flavor, huh?"

"Your intuition continues to astound me."

"Ha! Remember, I've been around the block and back a few times. But anyway, what's on your mind?"

Unwilling to dance around the topic this time, Zexion dropped the metaphors with a serious tone. "Axel, have you ever been in love?"

Stunned and speechless, Axel's eyes widened at the young apprentice, unable to think of an appropriate response. When he recovered from the shock, he pondered the question for a moment. He could not help but think of Isa and the past they shared together. Since becoming a Nobody, he assumed he was incapable of love, and had in fact forgotten what it felt like. But, he thought anger and sadness to be equally out of reach, only to be very clearly proven wrong on both counts.

"Well, Zexion…" He stalled for time, clearing his throat while he tried to sort out his own feelings on the matter. "The short answer is yes. The long answer is that it's complicated and even if I had experienced love in the past, I don't remember what it feels like now and since I don't have a heart, I won't be able to feel it again anyway."

Zexion stared at him with a confused look on his face. Upon seeing that he didn't really enlighten him at all, Axel stammered as he tried to think of a way to clarify his explanation. "Okay so… uh…"

"You said it's complicated. Tell me what makes it complicated."

It was at this moment that Axel remembered that Zexion was only a child when he apprenticed to Ansem the Wise and then joined the Organization. The poor kid barely got the chance to grow up at all before casting off his heart while he was still too young to understand the consequences. He was smart enough to have read about these human experiences, but never had a chance to actually live them. It filled Axel with pity to think what this young man had missed as a human.

"Well… People have different ideas about what love really is. It feels different to different people. And it can confuse you. A lot of other emotions and desires can feel like love when they're really not. You start to question yourself and you wonder if what you feel even is love, but there's nobody who can really answer that for you."

Zexion, unblinking, listened intently to Axel's explanation, absorbing every word as gospel.

"Love creeps up on you when you least expect it, grabs you by the heart and takes you for a ride. It can make you happy, it can make you sad, it can make you angry… and it can hurt you, worse than anything else can."

Zexion hadn't moved a muscle, the perfect pupil for Axel's teachings on a subject in which he had no business mentoring anybody.

"There's a reason they call it 'falling' in love. It's every bit as scary as falling, and it hurts just as much when you hit the ground."

Having run out of ways to describe it, Axel was quiet for a while. Talking about love brought more memories back into his mind. Some were very pleasant, others were excruciating. Zexion spoke up in a curious voice, snapping Axel back to the present.

"Then… why does anybody do it? If it's so painful, why love anyone at all?"

Axel sighed, smiling at the boy's naïveté. "Because… it's one of the best human experiences in existence."

"Better than sex?"

"Better than sex. Being in love with someone, even if it's temporary, feels so good that it makes it worth all the pain and heartache you end up with later. At least for most people, anyway. Having that special connection with someone… that bond is so strong that you believe nothing could ever break it. You feel invincible, alive… The world looks a little brighter when you're in love."

Zexion's face seemed to exhibit both understanding and confusion at the same time. He understood the words Axel said, but had no emotional context to draw from to truly comprehend any of it. He began to worry he'd leave this conversation with more questions than answers.

Axel, well aware of what Zexion was going through, laid a hand on his shoulder. It didn't make sense that either of them could be in a situation where they would need to ask these questions now, but at this point, being able to bond over it was comforting for both of them.

"Zexion… I just want you to be cautious. In your situation, it's easy to get carried away by the euphoria. The excitement of a new experience like that can fool you into thinking you're in love. And if you're not careful, you can hurt people, or get hurt yourself."

There was silence for a long while. Zexion replayed Axel's words over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of the explanation. Based on his warning, it seemed it would be safer to avoid the risk altogether and end things with Demyx. But that option would hurt more than anything. He couldn't bear the thought of letting him go. He dropped his head in his hands, dizzy from all the emotions dragging him back and forth. Emotions he wasn't supposed to be able to have.

"Axel, what should I do?"

Axel stroked his back in a gesture of support, sympathizing with the young man for having to experience this for the first time as a Nobody. "What do you want to do?"

Zexion racked his brain, trying to straighten out his desires. "I don't know… I just want to be with him. The details don't matter. More than anything I just want to be together."

"Then, I think you have your answer."

"But how do I tell him? What if he doesn't feel the same way?"

"That's the risk. With love, there's always the possibility of getting hurt. But would you rather stay the way you are now? Confused and scared and hurting, never knowing what could have been, when there's a chance you could be together? Would you rather just live without him?"

"No… I would feel… empty without him. I can't bear the thought…"

"Then you gotta tell him. Let your guard down. That's what love is all about."

"Love is about being vulnerable with someone?"

"Yeah! It's about baring your weakness for somebody and trusting them not to take advantage of it. That's a huge part of what love is."

Axel couldn't stop watching Zexion. The kid's face was flushed and he had stars in his eyes. There was a warm glow about him, so endearing that it was contagious. Axel couldn't recall the last time he'd seen Zexion so happy, especially since he wasn't supposed to have the heart to fall in love with in the first place. Axel patted him on the back in a congratulatory manner.

"You're all right, kid. Go get 'em."

Zexion, too wrapped up in his own head to speak, gave Axel a grateful smile before heading out the door. Axel let himself get lost in pleasant memories once more. He had loved Isa, and he was no longer ashamed to admit that. Their falling out was intensely painful, and Axel regretted every biting word he threw at his former lover. But, the memories would never cease to bring a smile to the man's face. Even if it would never happen again, just having had the opportunity to be with Isa was enough for him.


	16. Reservations

"Ah! Saïx, behind you!"

Before Saïx could blink, Xigbar took aim and fired his arrow gun directly at the man. It soared across the room and flew by Saïx's head so quickly that his hair was blown by the resulting breeze. The laser arrow narrowly missed him by mere inches before colliding with a small black spot on the far wall, which then exploded into a puff of smoke.

"Holy shit! Bullseye!"

The men surrounding him erupted into cheers and exclamations of awe and disbelief as Xigbar sheathed his weapon. Saïx, having recovered from the shock, turned to Xigbar with a seething glare. "Was that necessary?"

Xigbar shrugged. "Hey, I got him, didn't I? I thought you were afraid of spiders."

Saïx narrowed his eyes, lowering his voice to a sinister growl. "See to it that any others are eliminated with the same tenacity."

As soon as Saïx had exited the Grey Area, the men collapsed into fits of uproarious laughter. Xigbar opened a flask and took a swig before passing it around. Luxord shuffled his deck of cards and began to deal another hand of poker. "In his defense, I don't like spiders either. Nightmarish little creatures, really."

Xigbar piped up, tossing a few chips into the center of the table. "Ya know, urban legend has it that you swallow eight spiders a year in your sleep!"

Demyx shuddered. "Ugh, change the subject!"

"Aw, what's the matter, sport? Feeling a little rumbly in your tumbly?"

"You're grossing me out, dude."

"Ha! If you're worried about the spiders, here. Drown them with this."

Xigbar handed off the flask to Demyx, who quickly guzzled a shot and passed it along. After a few more hands of hold 'em and several rounds of the flask, the men sank into their seats, relaxing for once. Xigbar reclined sideways in his chair, dangling his legs over the armrest as he examined his cards. Demyx had pulled out his sitar and was strumming quietly between hands. He had been quiet and distracted for much of the day, and had to be prompted to complete his turn every time it came around to him. This was nothing new, and Luxord was grateful for the extra time, for even he found himself a bit lost in thought on this particular evening. If nothing else, Demyx's slow reactions diverted Xigbar's attention for the time being.

"Jeez, Demyx, are you sick or something?" Xigbar snorted. "You look like you're totally off in La-La Land."

Demyx was snapped out of his trance by Xigbar's call. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward to inspect his cards. "Sorry, just thinking too much."

"I'll say. Don't hurt yourself."

Demyx turned over his cards and returned to his sitar, ignoring the insult. "Your turn, Xiggy."

"You mean you're not gonna share with your friends? Come on, sport, you can tell us anything! Right, Luxord?"

Luxord jolted upright, having temporarily sunk into a shallow daze. He cleared his throat, hastily agreeing with his friend. "Right, yes. Of course. We're always happy to lend an ear."

Xigbar's eye narrowed suspiciously at him. It wasn't like Luxord to be caught off-guard like that. He was never the type to be inattentive, even in the most insignificant situations. Gathering information was his forte, and he could only do so by listening intently, often times in secret. Xigbar entertained the idea of confronting the man for his lapse in focus, but shrugged it off for the time being, chalking it up to a simple case of fatigue.

Unwilling to take their bait, Demyx changed the subject. "Where's Axel, anyway?"

Seeing he wouldn't be getting the gossip he wanted out of Demyx, Xigbar surrendered. "I think he's hanging out with Roxas. Apparently they're not letting him out of bed anymore."

Demyx scoffed incredulously. "Seriously? So all I gotta do is get pregnant and they'll let me sleep all day?"

"Are you kidding?" Xigbar took a large gulp from the flask and passed it to Luxord. "I would be bored to tears if I had to be stuck in bed day in day out."

"Is that so?" Luxord's lips curled into a sly grin. "I could make it interesting for you."

Demyx recoiled with a look of horror and repulsion. "Eww gross stop it! You promised you wouldn't do that!"

Luxord raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with him?"

Xigbar leaned over with a smirk, gesturing suggestively. "He doesn't like to think about us teaming up for a recon mission to—"

Demyx had his hands pressed over his ears, shouting to drown them out. "I'm not listening! I can't hear you!"

"What's all this noise you lunkheads are making?"

Axel had entered the room undetected and was standing over the group with his arms crossed. Demyx smiled widely at him with a mix of delight and relief at being rescued from Xigbar and Luxord's teasing. "Axel!"

"Evening, ladies. Room for one more?"

Luxord waved him over. "Pull up a chair, I'll deal you in."

Axel took up the table's fourth side, collapsing into his chair as if he hadn't had the opportunity to sit down all day. Xigbar, reading clearly that he was in need, passed him the flask, which Axel accepted graciously.

"So, how's Roxas?"

Axel took a sizable swig before passing it back and answering his inquiry. "He's fine. He hates being stuck in bed, but… well, he's at least taking it in stride. He's just tired."

"Gosh… Poor kid… Can you imagine?" Xigbar picked up his cards as Luxord dealt them, dropping a chip in the center of the table. "I mean, having to deal with what he's been through? Imagine all your family decides to start experimenting on you and you end up with something _living _inside your own body."

Demyx shivered, staring intently at his hand and battling with whether or not to call the blind. "Makes my skin crawl…"

Luxord leaned on an elbow, impatiently tapping his cards on the table while waiting for Demyx to make his play. "He's not really giving us much fuss, for all we've done to him."

Xigbar paused mid-gulp. "We?"

Luxord shrugged, laying down the flop. "It's not like we tried to stop any of it."

"We'd be erased if we did…"

"I'm just saying," Xigbar remarked, talking over Demyx's meek rebuttal. "Thinking about his situation makes me… I don't know, queasy I guess. I mean, just look at him. When you see his face, you'll know what I mean. You can _feel _his misery."

"Okay, that's enough guys."

All conversation halted abruptly at Axel's sharp tone, and no words were exchanged for an entire hand afterward. Luxord won the pot, sliding the chips to his pile and collecting the cards to shuffle for the next hand. Xigbar's last words rang in his mind in an endless loop. Roxas carried with him a dark sense of foreboding everywhere he went. His gradual deterioration was a disturbing event to witness, even for such a logical man as Luxord. If he didn't know better, he'd guess that he was perhaps feeling _empathy _for the boy.

It was no less unsettling to see the effect Roxas' decline had on Axel. The man looked positively run ragged on a daily basis, and his exhaustion only worsened when incidents like the one from the previous day occurred. When he could no longer stand the awkward silence, Xigbar clapped his friend on the shoulder with a guilty expression. "Sorry, Axel… we got a little dark for a second."

Axel waited a beat, but quickly softened in appreciation of the genuine apology. "The last thing Roxas wants is for us all to feel sorry for him. He doesn't need our pity. He needs our support. If you guys feel so guilt-ridden about the whole thing, go visit him. Talk to him. Be his friend. Just like Xemnas ordered you to do."

The game moved more slowly after that, with each man pausing generously to study his cards between each turn. Plays were made cautiously and with extra forethought, as if there were more than plastic chips on the line. After the river was dealt, Axel turned over his cards with a sigh. "I'm sorry guys, I can't concentrate. My head's elsewhere. I'm going to bed."

Xigbar reached for him, pleading apologetically. "Hey, man, we didn't mean to—"

Axel raised a hand, shaking his head. "It's fine, it's not you. I'm just tired. I'll see you later."

"All right. Later, Axel."

Axel threw him a salute and traipsed out of the room. The remaining men all watched until he was out of sight before reluctantly resuming their game.

"He seems… stressed." Luxord observed, dealing the next hand. It was an understatement, but for the first time in as long as he could remember, Luxord could not think of a better term to describe the apparent condition of Axel's mental health.

"He's gotta be a mess right now," Xigbar agreed. "Him and Roxas are practically attached at the hip. Probably worried sick over the poor kid."

Luxord nodded. "He's not the only one. Saïx is a bit more irritable than usual."

"I'll say."

"Vexen and Zexion look like they haven't slept in weeks." Demyx chimed in, feigning a casual tone.

"Ugh!" Xigbar threw his cards down, pressing his fingers to his temples in exasperation. "We need a vacation. Put us all on bedrest!"

The game continued at a snail's pace. The more fatigued each man got, the slower they played. Luxord found himself making mistakes and bad calls, struggling to read poker faces, miscounting the bets, and losing track of time as he second guessed his every move. It was growing more and more difficult to concentrate on the game, and even more so to hide his plight from Xigbar's watchful eye.

Xigbar was thankfully preoccupied with Demyx and prodded at him again when he seemed to stare right through his cards and into the table for several minutes during his turn. "Demyx, are you _sure _there's nothing bothering you?"

"Would you lay off already?"

Xigbar threw up his hands in surrender. "I'm just checking on you! I care about you, sport."

"Well give it a rest, will ya? I'm fine."

After busting out, Demyx decided he'd had enough poker for the night. He was so far gone that he couldn't even focus on his sitar playing anymore, and it was getting embarrassing. He rose from his chair and bid his friends a good evening.

"It's late. I'm gonna get some sleep. See ya."

He was out of the room before Xigbar and Luxord could even respond. Luxord shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Seems like everyone is a little on edge as of late."

"Yeah, no kidding."

Xigbar finally laid down his cards, handing Luxord his final victory for the evening. "Well, I'm totally wiped," he yawned, stretching his arms. "Guess it's time to call it a night."

Luxord collected the cards and shuffled the deck with a smirk. "Quitting while you're ahead, eh?"

The two swiftly cleaned up the table and sauntered into the hall, hand in hand and giggling wearily. They paused at Xigbar's door, prompting him to grin at his companion.

"You coming in?"

Luxord's voice was low and raspy. "I'm rather tired this evening…"

"You got something on your mind?"

Luxord shrugged, averting his eyes. He made to leave but Xigbar caught him by the elbow. "Hey… come inside. Let's just talk for awhile."

He tugged Luxord over the threshold by the fingers, guiding him to a chair and lowering him into it with a gentle press of the shoulders. Xigbar gave him a slow, affectionate massage on the back of the neck to sway him toward a sharing mood. One by one, he felt the knots in his muscles untie and the tension release. Pleased with the results, Xigbar leaned in and persuasively whispered in Luxord's ear. "Now, tell me what this is all about."

Luxord sighed, relaxing into his touch, having no real escape from this conversation. "Have you not felt… off… since this experiment began?"

"Off? In what way?"

"I'm not certain. I believe you used the word 'queasy' earlier?"

"You feeling sick?"

"No, not physically ill," Luxord dropped his head in his hands. "I seem to be afflicted by unwelcome thoughts. Interlopers from my memories come to torment me, I'm sure."

Xigbar, masking his concern with curiosity, knelt in front of him, resting on his knees. "You wanna talk about it?"

Luxord struggled to articulate just what it was he was feeling, if he was truly feeling anything at all. It took a few moments of thoughtful silence before he was able to collect the terminology he required and begin assembling his explanation. "Roxas… emits an aura. It's… difficult to describe. Suffice to say that his despair seems contagious. I sense it when I am in his presence, and then, to my dismay, I feel it myself."

Luxord had never discussed with anyone how he'd felt after his last mission with Roxas. He played the incident off as nothing, remaining calm for the boy's sake, but it would have been dishonest to claim that he was unaffected. The image of Roxas doubling over in pain and confusion sent a jolt of what could only be described as fear through Luxord's veins. It had been so long since he'd felt such a powerful surge of emotion that he had failed to recognize it at first. Something about seeing Roxas suffer filled Luxord with an overwhelming sense of dread, and he sprang into action, compelled to protect the boy as if responding to some long-dormant primal instinct.

"Have you not felt this?"

Xigbar rose back to his feet, stroking his chin as he slowly strolled to the bed and collapsed onto the mattress. "Oh, I don't know… Maybe? I'm just not that way, I guess. But I will say that looking at him is…" He waved his hand around for a moment, searching for the right word. "Unsettling. I just feel bad for the kid."

Luxord took a sharp breath, furrowing his brows in frustration. "He is hanging on by a thread, and not one of us is pulling him to safety. We're all just standing by and watching while he quietly suffers alone."

Xigbar softened his tone, appealing to Luxord's superior logic. "Whoa whoa, hey, calm down now. You know we'd get the axe if any of us interfered."

Luxord scowled with disgust. "Then we're all cowards. Sacrificing the boy to save our skins? Deplorable."

"Come on, Luxord, it isn't like that…"

Xigbar returned to Luxord's lap, leaning on his knees and looking up at him with a pleading eye. "Roxas isn't alone, you know. He's got all of us. He's our comrade, and we're all in this together, aren't we? Like a family!"

Luxord stared for a long time, seeming to consider his argument before slumping with a defeated sigh. "I'm tired, Xigbar. I'm going to turn in."

Luxord left his chair and was making his way toward the door when Xigbar reached out and grasped his shoulder. "Have you felt anything else? _Other_ than misery and despair?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm just saying, if Roxas has this 'aura' you were talking about… if he can somehow make us feel emotions like that again, wouldn't we be feeling some of the good ones, too?"

There was a beat. "Perhaps. Have you?"

"I asked you first."

Luxord did not answer. He instead turned and took his companion around the waist, pulling him close and pressing his lips firmly into Xigbar's. He didn't let go for nearly a minute, allowing the kiss to grow more passionate with every passing second. Xigbar could have burst into flames from the heat. He swooned under Luxord's charm and his knees buckled, threatening to drop him to the floor.

When he finally pulled away, Xigbar chuckled while stalling for time to catch his breath. "Does that mean 'yes?'"

"It certainly doesn't mean 'no.'"

It didn't take much to coax Luxord out of his clothes and into bed, and even he could admit that there was a comforting sense of familiarity to being inside Xigbar. His long time lover had always possessed a warmth to which none could compare. A warmth that didn't grow cold with the passage of time. A stability that never faltered with age. When everything else seemed complicated, being with him was easy and natural. They fit together effortlessly like two halves of one whole.

Xigbar could get used to emotional Luxord. He exhibited such tenderness as he pressed into him, rolling his hips steadily and with hypnotizing rhythm. His lips on Xigbar's neck were softer than usual, but his breath was hotter, steaming up his skin. His hands were gentler, but no less firm either. His arms were strong, but in a different way. A protective way. They enfolded his lover tightly, desperately, lovingly. Xigbar had never before felt so secure beneath him.

Luxord was patient tonight. A perfect gentleman, as always. This rendezvous was no race, and he had no interest in rushing to the finish line without Xigbar to accompany him. A few times he found himself too far ahead and he slowed his pace. When Xigbar lagged behind, Luxord paused, biding his time until his lover could catch up, taking the scenic route and exploring his body with a tantalizingly light caress. He was in no hurry, and Xigbar was exceedingly grateful for Luxord's forbearance. There was no need to be frantic or hasty with him.

The clock soon ran out for them. The pressure became too great. They didn't speak. They didn't have to. They knew each other too well. A look, a touch, a gasp, a sigh was all the communication they needed. The glint in Xigbar's eye. The clench of Luxord's jaw. The vibration of a soft moan. The subtle tug of a bitten lip. Their signals were clear as they had always been. They were in perfect sync. They walked over the edge together, sinking into the abyss in tandem.

An overwhelming crash. A calm release. Pure ecstasy. Were Luxord a man of weaker fortitude, the climax alone might have brought him to tears. But he was strong and sensible, and he stifled the lapse until afterward when the two lovers were gazing at each other, wide-eyed and breathless, shocked by the intensity of the encounter. He couldn't contain himself. This was different. They were different. Neither of them wanted to part. It was too good to end so soon.

They were still lost for words a long while later as they cuddled beneath the sheets together, staring at the ceiling. Luxord only broke the ice when he finally could no longer stand the curiosity of trying to decipher Xigbar's facial expression. "Now _you_ appear to be the one with something on your mind."

"Eh."

"Did I do a poor job?"

"As if!" Xigbar scoffed, climbing off the bed and standing in front of the mirror adjust his long hair. Seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts, his eye drifted into space, looking at his reflection but not really seeing.

"Come now, Xigbar," Luxord pleaded. "I give you the floor, now take it."

"It's nothing, really."

"Then it should be quite easy to discuss."

Xigbar drew out a long pause before finally replying with a heavy sigh. "Do you ever worry about Demyx?"

"Worry about him?"

Xigbar scratched his neck, seeming timid, as if he regretted bringing this up. "Yeah… I mean, you can tell something's going on, right? He's not himself."

Luxord cocked his head, perplexed by Xigbar's questions. These sorts of sentiments were a rarity for a man like him. "You've never been one to worry, my friend. Especially about Demyx."

Xigbar had been wringing his hands, pacing a few steps back and forth from the mirror. He finally stopped short with an exasperated sigh. "I can't help it. I love that little dumbass. I don't want him to get hurt, you know?"

Luxord only grinned, entertained by the endearing sight of Xigbar's uncharacteristic anxiety. "He's a big boy, Xigbar. He can take care of himself."

"I know, I know. I just…"

Where Xigbar had previously reached in front of him and pulled the words he sought from thin air, this time he simply gave up, letting his sentence trail off. His face fell to one of the most humanly emotional expressions Luxord had ever seen him produce, instantly revealing the depth of his worries. Though Luxord was the only man Xigbar would drop his guard for, his sense of vulnerability was palpable. Sympathizing greatly with his struggling friend, Luxord lowered his voice and gently beckoned Xigbar back to his side. "Come here, you."

He extended his arms with a soft, understanding smile. Xigbar couldn't resist. He practically glided back to the bed and let himself fall into the man's embrace. Luxord held him tightly until he felt the man's rigid body finally go limp, soothed by the warmth of skin on skin. He let himself sink into the pillow, lacing his fingers through Xigbar's shimmering long hair. "Don't you fret over Demyx. He's a grown man. If he needs anything from us, I'm confident that he will ask for it."

Xigbar, resting his head on Luxord's chest, chuckled with mild embarrassment at his overreaction. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Gotta let him leave the nest. Fly like the little bird that he is."

Though the man was smiling, Luxord could clearly see the melancholy on his face. He would have given anything in that moment to take Xigbar's sorrows away for good. "You really do care for him."

Xigbar scoffed. "I don't care about anything."

"But you care about him."

"You don't?"

"Oh, I do," Luxord had no qualms with admitting that he was fond of Demyx. The two had joined the Organization around the same time, and Luxord had always appreciated his younger comrade's company. "But this is the hand fate dealt him. Demyx deserves the chance to play those cards how he sees fit. Who am I to interfere?"

Unable to really answer him, Xigbar closed his eyes, mesmerized by the steady motion of Luxord's chest as he breathed. He was tired. He longed to sleep. But he couldn't. After a few moments, he reached for Luxord's hand and linked fingers with him, sighing sadly. "This experiment could turn on a dime. Roxas could be totally erased, and we would lose all of this."

"We had this long before Roxas came into the picture."

"Yeah, but it was different then. It wasn't like this. Do you know what I'm saying?"

Luxord lifted Xigbar's hand to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on his skin. "There's no sense dwelling on 'what ifs'. We should enjoy it now while we still can."

Xigbar squeezed his fingers, raising his eyebrows in anticipation. "You still gonna leave?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Xigbar let out a hearty laugh. "As if! Come on, stay here tonight. Bed's always warmer with you in it."

Luxord stroked his chin, pretending to thoroughly consider the request. After a humorous beat, he grinned, pulling the blankets up over the both of them. "Very well. I find my dreams are more pleasant beside you anyway."

"Aww, don't get all sappy now."

* * *

"Still here, Vexen?"

Just before the stroke of midnight, Zexion was finally able to wrap up the analysis he'd been working on all afternoon. Looking forward to some sleep, he gathered his belongings and was heading out the door when he saw Vexen still at his computer, putting a report together for the next morning's meeting.

Vexen looked up from the screen with a soft expression in his eyes. "Ienzo… let's talk."

Zexion started at the sound of his human name. It had been years since Vexen had called him that. Puzzled, he pulled up a chair next to his fellow scientist, concerned by his unusually pensive demeanor. "What is it, Even?"

Vexen casually leaned on the arm of his chair, his face still unreadable. "You know you can't hide anything from me. I am well aware of what you've been up to."

Taken aback by Vexen's keen observation, Zexion froze, his face flushing, unsure of what to say in response. "I see… and you have some opinions about it?"

Vexen smirked, amused by Zexion's nervous reaction. "Oh, I have plenty, but it really isn't my business. You're a man now and you have the freedom to make your own choices."

"But…?"

"But… I cannot help but feel… concerned."

Vexen was the closest thing to a father Zexion had after his own parents were killed. For awhile, Zexion had assumed it was merely out of obligation, since he was an innocent child at the time and had no caretaker. But over the years, he came to understand that Vexen truly loved him like a son, and Zexion grew to love him back. Their relationship withstood even the loss of their hearts and the test of time as Zexion matured into a young man, but it was still surprising to see this fatherly side of Vexen re-emerge after all these years.

"In a way, I am relieved to see that you are having this experience," Vexen fiddled with some papers on the desk in front of him, seeming to avoid eye contact. "When we got caught in this mess and lost our hearts… I regretted that you would never have the chance to love someone. You were only a boy when that opportunity was stolen from you… but it seems that it wasn't beyond your grasp after all. I'm… thrilled, to be honest."

Zexion couldn't hold back his smile. Growing up, Vexen adhered strictly to his duty of teaching Zexion as many of life's lessons as any parent could, but this was a discussion that they never got to have. When their hearts were lost, they'd assumed it wouldn't be necessary, but in this moment, they were pleasantly surprised to learn that they were wrong.

"But, Ienzo…" Vexen reached out and gently took his hands. "If you have the ability to feel the joy and bliss of love, then you also have the capacity to feel the pain and anguish. I care for you like you were my own flesh and blood, and I just couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt."

Zexion was deeply touched by Vexen's affectionate musings, and his smile only widened at the man's words. It was a rare treat to see this warm and thoughtful side of him. It was in these moments that they both felt as though they still had hearts, and that the familial bond they shared had only strengthened despite the years they'd spent without them.

"Even… I know that if that happens and I do get hurt… you will be here just as you always have been."

On Vexen's face shone a look of nostalgia, anxiety, and perhaps even sadness. Zexion recognized each emotion, supposing they were what any parent who possessed a heart might feel as they watched their child grow into an adult. He saw the ache of loss etched into the man's eyes, but Vexen quickly wiped away these melancholy thoughts and smiled at Zexion, exhibiting genuine happiness for him. Zexion leaned in and threw his arms around Vexen's shoulders, holding him tightly for the first time in many years. Vexen, pleasantly surprised by the gesture, pulled him closer into a protective embrace. For a moment, neither man wanted to let go, but they reluctantly parted after some time. Vexen gave Zexion a playful pat on the head, then returned to working on his report.

Zexion considered getting up to leave, now reminded of just how tired he was, but he stayed in his chair for a while longer, hoping to sate his curiosity by voicing a question that had been on his mind for some time. "Even, have you ever been in love?"

Pouring over a stack of notes, Vexen didn't look up. "Only with my research. I simply didn't have the time for those sorts of distractions."

"Do you think you'll ever change your mind?"

"I'm an old man now, Ienzo," Vexen sighed. "I think that ship has long since sailed away."

Zexion lowered his eyes, wishing he hadn't asked. Had he been the reason Vexen never found love? Because he was too busy caring for him? Vexen, sensing Zexion's internal struggle, gave him another smile to put him at ease.

"But don't be sad for me, my boy. I am quite content with the company of my work. And you, of course," he nodded toward the young apprentice. "I've never felt lonely in all my years as a scientist. But, how I wish you didn't have to grow up so fast…"

Zexion laid his hand on Vexen's shoulder. "I won't go anywhere. I'll always be here."

Vexen smiled again, his eyes glistening briefly before he hastily blinked the shine away. "Well that's good news, because I'm going to need you here. Saïx is sending me on an extended recon mission to the new world again. I'll be gone for a few days. You'll have to keep an eye on Roxas."

"That's no problem," Zexion permitted, stroking his chin in thought. "Odd that you're being sent out there alone on such a long mission…"

"This new world is extremely vast. It appears to be uninhabited so far. We've not found any intelligent life at all. It could prove useful to the Organization."

Zexion nodded in reluctant agreement. Although he was certain he had the situation with Roxas under control, he couldn't shake the apprehensive feeling by which he became afflicted whenever he thought about all the things that could go wrong, especially without Vexen present. "When will you leave?"

"Next week, if the schedule permits."

Zexion swallowed. "If anything should happen to Roxas…"

"I trust you to use your best judgment, Ienzo," Vexen interrupted his panic spiral before it began, always having had an expert handle on Zexion's anxiety. "You're a smart lad. I have full confidence in you."

Zexion did not argue, instead leaning back in his chair and working to shut down the rapid cycling thoughts in his brain. A few moments of tense silence passed before Vexen realized Zexion hadn't yet left. He turned to face his young companion, gasping when he caught a glimpse of the boy's obvious fatigue. Zexion's eyes were dry and bloodshot from excessive screen time and outlined with dark creases from lack of sleep.

"My goodness, you look exhausted. Go and get some rest. I'll see you in the morning, son."

"But what about—"

"I will keep an eye on Roxas." Vexen waved the young apprentice away. "Goodnight, Ienzo."

Zexion, having been coaxed to the doorway, turned around to flash the man one more glowing smile before he left for the night. "Goodnight, Even."


	17. Pieces

It was the same round room. The same white walls. The same tall thrones. The same sleepy Nobodies. The Room Where Nothing Gathers usually boasted a tone of absolute boredom — so much so that it was a comfort to the Organization's members to have some semblance of routine in the daily pandemonium that was their lives. No matter what chaos awaited them, they could at least look forward to a dull meeting every morning before heading off to their varying levels of topsy turvy. Tonight, however, the air in the room was different. Tonight, there was an overwhelming sense of unease. The atmosphere reeked of foreboding and nervousness. Emotions that these half-beings were not supposed to be able to feel.

"Sir, please excuse our lack of preparedness. We have not had time to write reports."

Saïx perched tensely on the edge of his throne, mindlessly rubbing his forehead in an effort to loosen the painfully stiff muscles of his brow. His posture was straight as a board with his legs crossed at the knee as always, a perfect image of well-practiced poise, but his face was etched with discomfort and exhaustion.

"Never mind the reports," Xemnas leaned forward in his seat, appearing a bit strained himself. "Tell me what has happened."

"Roxas entered Castle Oblivion with Axel, as ordered," Saïx began. "He traversed fourteen rooms before collapsing, complaining of headaches and abdominal pains. Axel brought him back here where he lost consciousness. He is now in Vexen's care."

Vexen cleared his throat. "Yes, we have examined him thoroughly. We are not entirely sure what happened, but we have observed an increase in size and erratic movements from the entity. It is rapidly draining Roxas' energy and completely disrupting his equilibrium."

"Well that much is obvious," Xigbar taunted, seemingly annoyed to be awake. "Kid looks like hell. How about telling us something we don't know?"

Vexen glared fiercely at him, preparing to retaliate when Xemnas interrupted the impending squabble. "Do you believe that the entity is hostile?"

Composing himself, Vexen shifted slightly before responding. "Based on what little evidence we can gather, I would say yes, it's quite dangerous. Roxas' vitals have gone haywire, and it's getting harder and harder to rouse him from these comas he keeps falling into. What's worse," he paused. "The creature seems to be aware of us. Every time we interfere, it responds by attacking Roxas from the inside."

"Attacking him how?"

The scientist was visibly uncomfortable as he listed the events. "Sometimes it'll just thrash about and nauseate him. Other times it might induce muscular contractions strong enough to break bones. At its worst, it has caused several fainting spells and a frightening decline in the functionality of nearly all of his systems. Frankly, it's a wonder he's still alive."

There was a long beat while Xemnas mulled over the disturbing report. The air in the room was heavy. Suffocating. Not a soul dared breathe while they awaited the Superior's response.

"I must say," Xemnas sighed. "This is rather disconcerting."

It was Saïx who had lost his patience this time, uncrossing his knees as if to jump out of his seat and lunge across the room at Vexen. "This has gone on long enough! Roxas is ill and suffering. The experiment must end immediately if he is to survive!"

"Haven't you been listening? We're trying to—!"

"Gentlemen…" Xemnas intervened. "Vexen, Zexion, have you made any attempts to remove the vessel?"

The scientist kept a stern watch on Saïx while he spoke, spitting out each word with exaggerated enunciation to ensure their clarity. "We have, sir. We've been met with only failure. The vessel puts Roxas into a state of near-death every time we try."

"Seriously?" Xigbar questioned with disbelief. "It's seriously trying to kill him?"

"I attempted to give him a simple painkiller," Vexen exasperated. "It… It stopped his breathing. It wouldn't release him until I had left the room entirely."

The room filled with the high-pitched squeaks of leather against leather. Every man seemed to curl in on himself, recoiling to the backs of their seats with notable apprehension. Some were motionless, paralyzed. Others fidgeted and trembled. Mouths opened to speak, only to close again. For the first time in a long while, no one felt safe.

A long exhale broke the silence, followed by an incredulous whisper from Saïx's throne. "Just what the hell is this thing? How does it know what you're trying to do?"

The only sound to follow was an excruciating silence as his comrades quietly entertained every morbid fantasy about what the creature could be in their minds. The imagery they conjured up was enough to turn their stomachs at the thought of sharing Roxas' affliction. Fear spread like a virus among them as the reality of being the entity's next potential victims set in.

"Sir, if I might add something…?" Zexion interjected in a small voice, summoning everyone out of their gruesome thought spirals for the moment.

The superior smiled down at the young apprentice, refreshed to hear from someone who wasn't arguing or lashing out. He gestured politely to the young man. "Please proceed, Zexion."

Zexion had been clutching his notepad with a death grip, but did not even look at it as he made his case. "This thing has a plan. We don't know what it is, but it has loudly and clearly asserted its dominance. It is in charge here."

While he paused to let his suggestion sink in, the leader pressed him to continue. "Your point?"

Zexion bit his lip, hesitating to go on. He glanced up at Vexen and was quickly met with a reassuring nod. He swallowed audibly and took a breath. "It can't stay in there forever. I think the entity is going to come out of Roxas… on its own terms."

There was movement in his periphery as his comrades instinctively shifted in their seats. Legs were crossed, arms were tucked in, hands were folded, and jaws were clenched in response, each man taking on a significantly more guarded posture. Repulsed, Xigbar was the one to voice the simple, primeval reaction everyone shared. "Aw gross…"  
"Pardon me, Zexion, it's been quite some time since I last took a course on human anatomy," Saïx condescended. "But if I'm not sorely mistaken, Roxas is not properly equipped to eject the entity 'on its own terms.'"

"He doesn't have to be," Zexion countered, finishing his theory with an insistent, almost pleading tone. "This is a very powerful creature we're dealing with. When it decides that it's ready to come out, it doesn't need a clearly-marked exit. It just needs to be strong enough to break down the door."

The room winced in unison.

"You mean chestburster style?" Xigbar gulped.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Well what other option is there?"

Zexion dropped his eyes, nervously brushing his coat. "Well…"

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Their imaginations more than did the job for him. His voice trailed off, only for Saïx to pick up where he left off. "Are you suggesting Roxas is going to just birth the damn thing out himself?"

"Not entirely, but—"

Xigbar laughed out loud. "Shit, we better start planning a baby shower!"

"This isn't funny, Xigbar!"

"_Settle down_, gentlemen."

Xemnas halted the conversation, weary of the petty quarrels and shouting matches. He linked his fingers peering through them while he contemplated the situation. His underlings held their tongues while they waited for his conclusion. After a moment, he dropped his hands and addressed the congregants at large. His composure had faltered slightly, and he seemed almost desperate for answers.

"I am willing to entertain your theories. Just what is this creature living inside our Number XIII?"

Saïx crossed his arms. "With this level of hostility, it sounds like some sort of demon."

Vexen scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, there's no such things as demons."

"Sure seems pretty damn evil, though," Xigbar cut in. "I'm just saying."

Saïx rolled his eyes and threw out another suggestion, one he wasn't sure he even believed himself. "It could be a Heartless. They've shown some limited sentience. Certainly enough to match this creature's behavior."

Zexion piped up, still sounding underconfident compared to his comrades. "It could be human."

Vexen stroked his chin before shaking his head. "It's too powerful to be human. Besides, stray hearts don't generally turn back into humans. At most, it would be a replica."

"You're not entirely correct, Vexen," Saïx reminded him. "There are two known instances of stray hearts regaining a human appearance."

Vexen conceded the correction. The keyblade hero Sora's heart had taken on his human appearance and infiltrated Castle Oblivion many months ago, and was still in a deep coma as far as the Organization was aware. It was one of the very few known instances of a human and their Nobody coexisting as separate beings. The only other person to accomplish this feat was their Superior.

"Either way," Vexen added. "A human fetus is not sentient. It wouldn't have any awareness of us or our interference, and it wouldn't be able to assault Roxas like this."

Taking things seriously for once, Xigbar offered the next suggestion. "What if it's some new hybrid monster or something? Something we've never seen before?"

"Intriguing…" Xemnas hummed curiously. "An entirely unique being of our own creation…"

It seemed that the conversation had gone in circles for hours and fatigue was rapidly setting in for everyone. Vexen's testy mood was only worsening in response to Xigbar's bothersome quips and jeers. Zexion, wary of the rising antagonism in the atmosphere, seemed to shrink into his seat, covering his ears when the clashes got out of hand. Saïx's head was pounding so hard that his vision blurred, and he winced every time a voice was raised until the pain became so great that it triggered his own rage.

"So, if we interfere, we could lose Roxas. If we don't interfere, we could lose Roxas. We've no way out of this."

Xemnas, weary and perplexed, all but threw up his hands. "It would seem so…"

Xigbar hurled another gibe in Vexen's direction. "Well you're the scientist, why don't you come up with something?"

Zexion whipped his head around to defend his fellow apprentice. "We work day and night searching for a solution."

"Well, you certainly are doing _something _day and night, that's for sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just sayin', seems your focus is on other things these days…"

"How dare you!"

Vexen waved to cut Zexion off, fuming at Xigbar with fury in his eyes. "I certainly haven't seen _you_ come up with anything, you lout!"

"Hey, who're you callin' a—!"  
"That's quite enough!"

Xemnas roared, having finally lost his patience with their juvenile bickering. His booming voice halted the altercation almost immediately, and he heaved a sigh when he had finally regained control of the room.

"It seems tensions are rather high. It is late, and we are all fatigued. I think it best if we revisit this issue tomorrow after we've had some rest."

He turned to the scientists. "For now, keep Roxas comfortable. It would appear that there is not much else we can do at this time. Keep me apprised of any changes in his condition."

He shifted his attention back to the small collection of men around him, taking care to lock eyes with each one as he made his final request. "Before I dismiss you, I would like to know if there is anything else unusual that you wish to report. No matter how insignificant it may be."

He waited for nearly a minute, focusing on every face below him and giving them an opportunity to voice the concerns that were so obviously burning in their minds. His knowing expression seemed to drill right through their foreheads, and for a moment, they feared that their leader could read their thoughts.

"Nothing?" he arched a brow suspiciously, but still no one spoke. Finally, accepting that he would not be getting anything from them, Xemnas relented and waved an arm, ending the meeting.

"Very well. You are dismissed."

A flustered-looking Zexion was first to go, hurriedly ducking into his corridor and out of sight. Xigbar shot one last smirk to Vexen before slinking into his own portal, closely followed by Vexen, who disappeared with a seething glare. With only the Superior and his second in command left, the room was mercifully quiet. Though there was more to say, both took some time to appreciate the stillness, relieved at the small glimmer of peace they could share. With a far more relaxed demeanor, Xemnas leaned toward Saïx and delivered his last instruction for the evening.

"Saïx. As soon as he recovers, I would like Roxas sent to Agrabah to eliminate the giant Heartless there."

Saïx blinked, his jaw dropping at such an order. "Sir? That could—"

"If this creature will only vacate Roxas when it _wants_ to, perhaps we should give it a reason. We can interfere without actually interfering."

Saïx pondered the idea. Xemnas was never one to make hasty decisions. Every order he gave was carefully planned, so it would stand to reason that he'd already put some thought into this. Still, he could not shake the feeling of unrest in his stomach. "It's risky, sir. The entity might become aware of our intentions."

"Our options are quite limited."

Saïx would have liked to feel even slightly hopeful at the prospect of a workable solution, but could only sigh at the sad reality of the situation. "Roxas is in no condition to fight. He would be obliterated."

"Do not send him alone. Assemble a team to accompany him. We needn't give Roxas more than a light jostling."

For the moment, Saïx could think only of Axel. As the one member of the Organization the boy trusted, it was obvious that Axel would be on that team. If nothing else, it seemed the most compassionate choice. If Roxas were to perish on this mission, at least he would be with his only friend. On the other hand, it seemed especially cruel to force Axel to watch him succumb to whatever hell this entity would unleash upon its host, knowing there would be nothing he could do to save him. All the while, Saïx could only wonder why he cared at all about being compassionate or cruel to either one of them when he lacked the heart necessary to produce such empathy.

Seeing that his comrade remained unconvinced, Xemnas defended his position, appealing to Saïx's keen sense of logic. "You did say it was high time this vessel was removed, and I would tend to agree. I am merely suggesting a course of action that might preserve the boy's life."

There simply was no solution. No option existed that was without risk. Saïx had no choice but to comply. "Of course. I will give the order, sir."

The throbbing in his head was becoming unbearable. Saïx eagerly awaited his dismissal, but to his dismay, the Superior posed yet another question. "Saïx, are you feeling unwell?"

His breath caught in his throat. "Sir?"

"You do not seem yourself."

It seemed a bit of an understatement, but the observation was enough to catch Saïx off guard. After his argument with Axel, he'd gone to his room to write a report on the incident at Castle Oblivion. His wandering mind hindered him, and page after page ended up in the wastebasket. He'd made so many attempts that his wrist became sore once again. His recollection of Axel's expert massage skills only served to distract him further. Try as he did, he could not sweep the temptation from his mind.

He couldn't have been less in the mood. He lay naked on his bed, hoping the frigid air might quell the growing arousal. He cursed his primitive desires at the same time as he surrendered to them. When he was finished, he felt no sense of relief. He was neither calm nor relaxed. If anything, he felt dirty. The headache began shortly after that, and nothing seemed to placate it now.

"I've not had much sleep, sir," he admitted. "In a long time."

Xemnas feigned a look of sympathy. "Perhaps you should indulge in a brief respite. Xigbar can easily hand out mission briefings."

Saïx shook his head. "This is a critical stage. I mustn't become lax in my duties now."

"Even you need your rest."

At this point, Saïx would have said anything to convince the Superior to finally release him. He would have tea. He would take a lengthy shower. He would beg Zexion for a sedative. Whatever it would take to satisfy Xemnas' curiosity and prevent any further prying. He needed to get out of there before he collapsed.

He bowed his head obediently. "Yes, sir. I will consider it."

Xemnas' smile was as haunting as it was polite. "Pleasant dreams, No. VII."

* * *

_Day 194 — I'm just done_

_I fainted again. I don't even know what happened, it was so fast. Castle Oblivion hurts your eyes when you go in there, and going through every door only to end up right back in the same room where I started was disorienting. My head was starting to ache and I was having those flashing images again. I don't know what was going on, but I saw myself in those images. I saw my comrades. But I don't remember any of the things that I was doing. Were those dreams? Were they memories?_

_Anyway, the creature in me didn't like it, I guess. Whatever it did, it really hurt. It was like it was trying to break through my skin. I could barely breathe. It was really scary. Is it powerful enough to do that? Can it just burst out of there any time it wants? That's terrifying. I would never survive. Why aren't they doing anything about this?_

_Maybe it's just me, but the others are acting weird. I suppose they're just nervous about this whole thing, but I see a lot more than nerves on some of them. Their eyes are changing. Their whole faces are changing. I can't describe it. They look at me and they become almost unrecognizable. It doesn't seem to happen to Axel, though. He always looks the same. I'm glad I can count on him._

_I'm on bedrest now. Indefinitely. I want to be pissed about being stuck here, but I'm too tired to fight anymore. I'm just done. I don't know how much longer they're going to leave this damned thing in me and I have no idea how they plan to get it out, but I'm over it. At this point, whatever happens, happens. I just don't have the energy to care._

"Hey, Roxas."

Axel was leaning in the doorway with crossed arms, a forced smile and tired eyes. Roxas had been so engrossed in his writing that he hadn't even heard the door open. For the past few days, Axel made a point to come and visit Roxas both before and after his missions, and it was clearly taking a toll on him. His stance was not the casual lean that Roxas was used to seeing, but more of a jaded slump, as if the door frame were the only thing keeping the man from collapsing to the floor in exhaustion.

"Axel. Back already? How was your mission?"

"Boring, as usual."

Axel dragged his feet as he sauntered to the bed to sit beside Roxas. "How are ya holding up?"

Roxas shrugged. "Well, I'm not dead yet."

Axel smirked, closing his eyes briefly to hide the sadness. "I'm glad to hear that."

There was an awkward silence for a while. Roxas stared at the ceiling, as he had done all day every day since being forced to remain in bed. The creature inside him flailed restlessly but he ignored it, having grown weary of its demands.

"I think it's working."

"Hmm?"

Roxas sat up, elaborating his theory. "It's collecting memories. My memories. I think they're coming back to me."

"You think so?"

He tried to summon up the images he saw while climbing through the castle. He found Axel's face, etched with sorrow. Roxas watched himself turn away while his friend reached for him. There was desperation in his voice. It tore at Roxas from the inside, but at the time his anger was too great to feel the guilt.

"Yeah. I'm getting them in pieces. I don't really understand them yet."

"Well, what do you see?"

He had reached the exit only to find Saïx blocking his path. He summoned his claymore and lunged. The image began to blur. Now Roxas was looking down at him, slumped onto the floor in a heap, panting, wounded, defeated. Looking up at his opponent with widened eyes, he presented the first facial expression Roxas had seen him make other than contempt. Utter shock. Bewilderment. Meanwhile, Roxas' anger only intensified, and as he walked past his best friend a second time, never once looking back even as the man begged him not to leave, he coldly rejected the only person who had ever cared about him. Roxas heard Axel mutter something from a distance as he was leaving, but he couldn't make out the words that were said.

"I see myself… leaving the castle."

Roxas' thoughts began to race. The pictures flew by more and more quickly. His head was aching, but he refused to shut them out. He was lying on wet pavement with raindrops spilling onto his face. He was injured. Everything seemed to hurt. A stranger was standing over him, peering at him with apparent curiosity, of all things. His rage boiled over. Roxas seized the opportunity and attacked, quickly tackling his adversary to the ground with both Keyblades aimed directly at his throat. The rain beat down on his back as his opponent began to transform. His vision clouded, flickering in and out. There was pain. There was fear. Something was crushing the life out of him. He couldn't breathe. Everything went dark.

There was a sickening clench in his abdomen. It was a crushing sensation much like the one from his memory. He winced, grasping the sheet in his fist and holding his breath while he waited for it to pass.

"Roxas…? Are you okay?"

It lasted only a few seconds, but was enough to send Axel into a panic. As the pain subsided, Roxas quickly pacified the man, assuring him that he needn't worry. "I'm fine. It was nothing."

"Roxas, tell me what's going on."

"Just give me a minute. I see…" He dug into his memories again, trying to remember the last one that had come to him before he collapsed in the castle. "Strangers."

He was being dragged along a cold tile floor. There were oddly-shaped vessels of some sort lining the dark hallway he was in. Then, there was light. Very bright light, emanating from several glowing screens dominating one wall. He was dropped into a platform where a frightening man who hid his face behind maroon wrappings was closely studying him. Roxas tried to speak, but no words came out. He couldn't move his mouth. He couldn't move anything. He was completely paralyzed. There was a machine above his head, making a dull whirring noise. The man stepped away, and moments later the machine was firing up. The whirring noise crescendoed dramatically and lights began to flash. The man was laughing hysterically. There was fear again. Roxas began to panic. He had never before felt so afraid. He tried to scream. There was no sound. Everything went dark again.

The pain struck him a second time, more intensely than before, knocking the wind out of him. Roxas gasped, clutching his abdomen and squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm going to get Zexion. Stay in bed."

"Wait…"

Roxas felt Axel rising from the mattress and reached out for him, tightly gripping his wrist so that he wouldn't leave. The pain faded and he sighed with relief. Axel knelt beside the bed, staring at Roxas with a worried look. Roxas was quiet for a few moments as he analyzed the puzzle. The memories triggered the pains. That was obvious. But how? Why?

"Axel… have I been in Castle Oblivion before?"

Axel didn't answer right away, uncertain if it was something Roxas should know about. "Yeah… We went there to investigate something a while back. There was an imposter wearing our coat that we were trying to catch."

"So… they weren't dreams, then. Those really were my memories…"

"What do you mean? What else did you see?"

The memories nudged him yet again, laying out another series of images for him to watch. Roxas saw himself walking in an alley in Twilight Town. It was dark outside. He was wearing clothes he'd never seen. He had been looking at the ground, watching his feet take each step, and nearly jumped when he saw another set of feet ahead of his. He looked up and was startled to see a tall hooded figure leaning against the brick wall.

"You. I see you."

Roxas froze, prepared to run. The figure lowered his hood and revealed himself as Axel. Roxas winced at the harsh sting that shot through the center of his forehead upon seeing Axel's face. The man seemed familiar, but Roxas was certain he hadn't seen him before. Axel spoke to him, but his words didn't make sense. He got angry and brandished a pair of wheel-shaped weapons with sharp spikes on them. Fire seemed to emanate from the stranger's body and spread quickly until it formed a barrier surrounding the pair. Roxas tried to back away, soon realizing he was completely defenseless and had nowhere to run. Suddenly, as if straight out of thin air, a weapon materialized in his hand, shaped like a giant key. He had no time to be surprised, as the stranger lunged at him with a cry of rage.

Just as before, Roxas was seized by an intense pain wrapping around his middle and squeezing him senseless. It was so quick that Roxas hadn't had the chance to prepare for it. He grunted as the air was forcefully pressed from his lungs, and for a moment he struggled to inhale.

"Roxas, it's hurting you. Let me go get—"

"Axel, what happened when I was kidnapped?"

As expected, the clench released him and the pain died down. Roxas was now convinced that this was a pattern, and had to figure out why it was happening. He needed to understand the meaning of these strange memories and their connection to the entity's movements.

"The things I saw didn't make sense. There's more to the story. Please, tell me."

"Roxas…"

"Tell me!"

Axel wanted to fight him, but Roxas would not budge. Defeated, Axel relented and gave Roxas just enough information to placate him without revealing everything. "The imposter we were looking for is the guy who ended up kidnapping you. His group were trying to get to you because… because you're a very powerful Keyblade Wielder."

Roxas stared in disbelief. "What? That's all?"

"Roxas, not many people can wield a Keyblade. It takes something special to be able to do that, and you have that something special. They wanted it for themselves."

"But why? What good am I to them? What were they going to use me for? What else does the Keyblade do that I don't know about?"

"Roxas…"

"Axel, I saw myself walking out of this castle all on my own. You were sad to see me go. Saïx attacked me to stop me from leaving. What happened, Axel? Why did I leave?"

Time was quickly running out, no matter how Axel stalled for more. He tried to convince himself it was for the boy's own safety that he wasn't told what would happen if the Keyblade was used on a person. Perhaps it was for the best that Roxas didn't know where he came from. Maybe it was all for the greater good. No matter how many times he repeated this collection of lies, Axel just couldn't make himself believe a word of it. It was no wonder Roxas took off when he did. Axel didn't blame him.

Roxas' face fell. "You can't tell me…"

"That's not it, Roxas. I just—" Axel cut himself off, treading dangerously close saying too much. "I don't want you to leave again."

"Axel, I'm your friend… whatever it is, if you just explain it to me…"

"Axel."

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt at the sound of Saïx's voice. Axel turned to see him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a disapproving look on his face. The two hadn't spoken a word to each other since the incident at Castle Oblivion, and Axel had no intention of changing that now.

"What do you want?" Axel sneered, having no patience for the bothersome interruption.

"I have a message for you," Saïx's tone was cold and clinical. "I'm afraid it's confidential."

"Can it wait?"

"It's marked 'urgent' as well."

Axel glared at him, but had no choice but to surrender. With a heavy sigh, he turned to Roxas as he rose to his feet. "Roxas… I'll see you later, okay?"

"Axel, please…" Roxas begged. "Don't keep me in the dark."

Axel winced, averting his eyes and gripping his friend's shoulder. He couldn't bear to look him in the face. Every glance seemed to bring an invisible set of hands to his chest, crushing his lungs until he couldn't breathe. The pain was astounding, yet Axel could only accept that he deserved every bit of it.

He reluctantly traipsed back to the door, following Saïx into the hall and leaving Roxas behind, alone and confused as he ever was. The very instant the door was closed, Axel reached for the collar of Saïx's coat and held him in place, closing in on him until only inches separated their eyes.

"All right, tell me what was so 'urgent' and 'confidential' that you had to—"

"Lea, what the hell were you doing?" Saïx interrupted in a hushed tone, shrugging out of Axel's grip.

"None of your damn business, that's what."

"It's far too risky to share such information with him. You know that."

"I'm not so sure!" Axel began to pace, using all of his self control to keep from knocking the man senseless. "Last time I kept it from him and he took off! You don't think maybe knowing the truth would at least ease his mind?"

"It would just give him one more reason not to trust us."

"He already doesn't trust us! And he has no reason to! All this secrecy is just making him more suspicious and resentful. That's human nature, Saïx!"

"Roxas isn't human. None of us are human. Now keep your voice down or he'll hear you."

Axel shouted even louder in response. "Let him hear me!"

Saïx huffed. "Damn it, Lea, can not one plan run its course without your interference?"

"Plenty! But not the ones that involve my friends. I stood by and let the Organization destroy someone I cared about once already. I'm not letting it happen again!"

Axel stomped a few feet away and leaned against the wall. There was a rapid fluttering in his chest and heat was rising up his neck and to his ears. He waited for Saïx to respond while he caught his breath. Surely the man knew who he'd been referring to, but he said nothing at all. Axel figured he ought not be surprised. Saïx had quite a talent for dodging sentiment and avoiding even the slightest glimpse of emotion, even if he hurt his friends in the process. Why should he show any attachment now?

"You fought with him," Axel muttered, hoping to be told it wasn't true.

Saïx's reply was calm and matter-of-fact. "Yes, I did."

"Trying to stop him leaving?" Axel shot him a look of scorn, prompting Saïx to roll his eyes.

"I failed, if that's any consolation."

"It's not."

"I was doing my job, Lea."

"That's 'Axel' to you."

"Fine, _Axel_," he growled through his teeth. "It wasn't personal. The Organization needs a Keyblade Wielder, and the only one we had was about to walk right out our doors."

Axel scoffed, clenching his fists as he approached the man. "He's just a kid, and you attacked him? You couldn't just restrain him and drag him back?"

"Could you?"

Axel was thrown off by the unexpected parry to his interrogation. He stared at his old friend with his mouth hanging open in shock. The attack was deliberate and calculated. The words stung sharply, and Saïx knew it. There was no trace of remorse in him as he continued to defend himself.

"Roxas is not 'just a kid.' He's extremely powerful, and he took me completely by surprise. He delivered a hell of a beating that day. I was sore for over a week."

Axel grunted with satisfaction. "Serves you right. You could have hurt him."

His comrade's sinister, yellow eyes narrowed. "I barely laid a scratch on him. It's more than anyone can say for you."

Enraged, Axel took him by the collar again, slamming him into the wall. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even think. He could only feel, and what he felt was hotter than any fire he'd ever cast. He waited, daring Saïx to provoke him further, but the man seemed totally unconcerned by the assault. Once again having failed to intimidate him, Axel let him go. The pain inside him only intensified. He clutched his chest, turning away to conceal it from Saïx.

"I must say," the smirk was audible in Saïx's voice. "It's touching to see you so _concerned _for the welfare of your _friends_."

The taunting nearly set him off, and before he'd had a chance to compose himself, Axel whipped around, pleading with his former friend. "Would you just drop it? That's not what this is about."

"Then enlighten me."

For a moment, Axel considered that maybe he should. Maybe Saïx really was completely clueless. But it didn't matter. There was no getting through to him, and Axel didn't have the spoons to try anymore. "I've got nothing else to say."

"Don't walk away from me again, Lea."

Axel had finally turned to go, only to be stopped in his tracks by a voice that didn't belong to Saïx. It was familiar. Nostalgic. That voice was Isa. Axel turned to find the source staring at him with that same flash in his eyes. He saw the feeling, the memories, the humanity. The pain.

"How many more times do I have to watch you leave? Why do you toy with me like I can't feel it? When will it be enough for you?"

Axel took slow steps in his direction, as if cautiously approaching an animal that he didn't want to startle for fear it would run away. "I thought you didn't have a heart to break."

"I don't. Not anymore," Saïx dropped his head, as if staring longingly at his own empty chest. "But I have a vivid recollection of that very sensation."

Axel's steady trek toward him neither sped up nor slowed. His stone expression didn't waver in the slightest. Saïx only stood there and watched the distance shrink between them, waiting to see which man would break first.

"I feel nothing. I love nothing. I hate nothing. _I am nothing. _All I could claim was my purpose," Saïx's words began to shake. "I never stopped fighting for that purpose, but that purpose stopped fighting for me."

Having finally reached him, Axel placed his hands on his shoulders. "Isa, _I tried._ I walked away because _you pushed me away. _What was I supposed to do?"

"Lea, you haven't any clue what I've been through."  
"Then just tell me! I'm listening!"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Why not? Why wouldn't I understand?"

In a most poetic gesture, Saïx pushed Axel off of him and backed away. His guard was reinstated and Isa disappeared back into the shadows. Axel reached for him, hoping to coax him back out, but Saïx recoiled and closed himself off. Ready to admit defeat, Axel cast one last line, begging the man to bite.

"If you want me to stay, give me a reason to stay."

A long silence followed. "What would you have me do, Lea?" Saïx whispered. "I can't grow it back. All I have left are the memories."

"Then use them."

He shook his head, never lifting his eyes from the floor to face the man he was rejecting again. "I can't."

Axel had sustained a number of injuries in his career with the Organization. He'd broken plenty of bones, been cut practically to shreds, and been burned by more magical attacks than he could count. He could clearly remember the pain of losing his own heart — both the physical agony of the keyblade in his chest and the emotional torment of loss and grief when he realized it was gone. He was no stranger to wounds or to pain. But none of the broken bones or lacerations, none of the burns, none of the agony compared to this moment. Axel and Saïx were through years ago, but it was only now that it had hit him. The severance of their bond was excruciating, more so than severing any limb might be.

Axel's throat was clenching so tightly that he could barely breathe. His eyes felt heavy. Unwilling to open himself up to any more of the man's scrutiny over his emotional behavior, Axel swallowed hard and turned to finally leave Saïx alone.

"Let me know when you figure it out."


	18. Blossoming

"That takes care of this area. I propose we continue this investigation over there, by those trees."

"Whatever, man. Lead the way."

Vexen and Demyx trudged through the deep sands of the desert in silence until they had reached their destination. While Demyx immediately pulled out his sitar, Vexen lowered his hood, squinting into the distance at the massive Heartless crawling along the ground.

"Hmm, now that's odd. It seems to be a ground-based creature. I would have thought it to be a flying Heartless, considering its habit of creating these storms."

"Hm," Demyx grunted with obvious disinterest.

Vexen sighed, crossing his arms and scanning the area. "And then, over there is the storm…" he observed. "Fascinating… it has shifted its trajectory by thirty degrees, if Axel's report was accurate. I think it's going to miss Agrabah entirely."

Demyx was getting pretty tired of being sent to Agrabah, and the sound of Vexen's voice didn't make it any better this time. He plucked at his instrument, trying to drown him out, but Vexen was insistent in his battle for the young musician's attention.

"Demyx, you even listening?"

"Hmm? What? Oh, yeah, the storm. Going a different direction. Right."

Vexen rolled his eyes with a frustrated scoff. "Demyx, do you have _any_ input on this matter? You were one of the last people to see this phenomenon."

"Yeah but I was running for my life!" Demyx argued. "Why couldn't Saïx just send Xigbar or Axel?"

In truth, Vexen wondered that very same thing himself, always loath to share a mission with someone as lethargic as Demyx. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples and inhaling through his nose a few times to maintain his patience. "All right, Demyx. Here's an observation I've made. The creature has command over the ground, yet seems to remain mostly in one place. How it manages to create these sandstorms is quite a mystery."

He waited, handing the floor to Demyx, who struggled to come up with anything to add to his summary. _Just how many times are we going to study this damn thing before we finally go in and kill it? _Saïx had insisted on sending someone to conduct additional recon nearly every day this week, adamant that the reports be _more thorough_. He claimed that the extra planning was all in the interest of safety, but since when did Saïx care about safety?

The heat made his head pound and Demyx found it quite difficult to think, especially under pressure, but he eventually offered up the only input he really had, hoping it would suffice. "That cyclone is full of flying Heartless. Maybe big guy here kicks up the sand and then they swirl it around and make the storms."

Vexen turned to face him, for once thrilled to see him participating. "That's an intriguing hypothesis. What, then, would be your suggestion?"

Demyx sighed, resentful of the miniature quiz Vexen was clearly giving him. "We gotta send our biggest tanks to get rid of it. I'm talking Lexaeus _and _Xaldin. Maybe Saïx, Axel, whoever. That thing doesn't play around."

Vexen smiled, giving Demyx a patronizing pat on the back. "That's much better, Demyx. I knew you had a brain in there somewhere."

"Hardy-har. Can we go back now?"

"Fine, we're finished here. Let's go home."

They walked in silence, pulling their hoods tight and shielding their eyes. When they had reached Agrabah, Vexen paused, resting in the shade of a nearby structure.

"Demyx… Before we go back, I'd like to chat. Man to man."

Demyx felt his stomach drop, unsure of what to expect from such an odd request. Vexen would never volunteer to converse with Demyx even if he were the only other man in existence. "I don't like where this is going…"

"Of course I don't have to explain my relationship to Zexion. I took him in when he was just a child. I raised him like he was my own son, and… I care very deeply for him."

Demyx remained completely speechless, his eyes wide and his jaw dropping with the shock of seeing Vexen soften his eccentric face and emote genuine concern and affection for somebody. As quickly as the change occurred, it shifted right back as Vexen glared menacingly at Demyx. "So, if someone were to hurt him, I'm sure you understand that I would be quite… cross."

Demyx gulped, lacking a response to such a sinister warning. He looked away from Vexen's frightening face, nervously brushing sand off his coat.

"I trust I've made myself clear?"

Demyx, shaking out his hair, racked his brain for an appropriate answer. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words simply wouldn't come to him. He stared back at Vexen with determination, stalling for time as he organized the thoughts in his head. To his absolute surprise, he managed to spit out something coherent.

"We have something in common, Vexen."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"We both care about Zexion, and would unapologetically slit the throat of anyone who dared to hurt him. If you ask me, we're on the same side here."

He could have sworn someone had set a fire inside him. The rush of finally saying something that sounded somewhat intelligent was invigorating. Vexen, dumbstruck, could only gape at him, stunned by his sudden surge of logic and eloquence. After several seconds of tense silence, he slowly began to smile. He patted Demyx warmly on the back again and gestured toward the corridor of darkness.

"Let's go home, boy."

Demyx could have floated off into the sky, so elated by the outcome of their confrontation that he could barely contain himself. He beamed brightly as he marched through the portal and back into the Grey Area, much to the vexation of Saïx, who had been silently staring out the window at the moon.

"Vexen, what did you do to him?"

"I _bonded _with him. You should try it some time."

"How touching. I think I'll pass."

Even Saïx couldn't get him down this time. Demyx brushed off his insults and cheerfully hurried to the lab where he knew he would find Zexion waiting. His accomplishment had to be celebrated, and he had the best idea for just such an occasion. Zexion greeted him with his usual warm smile. "You're unusually cheerful. Did you have fun in Agrabah?"

"Zexion, tell me you have the night off because I'm taking you out."

Zexion giggled at his enthusiasm, appreciating his thoughtfulness. "Very well. I have the night off."

With a flash of his shimmering smile, Demyx extended a hand to the young apprentice. Zexion hesitated briefly, wary of publicly displaying their affection at first. After a few seconds, he remembered Axel's words, deciding they applied perfectly to this situation. He took Demyx's hand and they walked out into the hall together.

They had no sooner crossed the threshold than Demyx took him by surprise and pinned him to the wall, attacking him with a ferocious kiss. Zexion jumped, startled by the sudden advance, but quickly swooned at his touch, his knees weakening beneath him. The overwhelming heat building between them threatened to burn through the leather of their coats as a powerful current pulsed through their lips. Just when he was certain he might collapse, Demyx broke off the kiss, reluctantly pulling away from Zexion to collect himself.

Zexion stood frozen against the wall, winded and exhilarated. Demyx chuckled at the sight of Zexion's flushed cheeks and yearning eyes. "Heh, sorry. I needed that. Let's go."

He pulled Zexion down the hall by the hand and summoned a corridor of darkness. They passed through and found themselves in an alleyway in Twilight Town. Demyx led the way as they headed to a small bar on the next street. It was deserted, except for the bartender. He was a round, cheerful looking man, and he greeted them warmly as they entered.

Zexion gave Demyx a puzzled look as he guided him to an arched doorway in the back. Demyx knew he didn't drink, and Zexion questioned why he would decide to bring him to a bar. When they had reached the back room, he finally saw why. At the other end of the room, surrounded by a dozen empty tables, was an upright piano.

Demyx, beaming, practically dragged Zexion to the piano in excitement, plunking him down on the bench and pulling up a chair beside him. Its keys were chipped and the wood was worn, but Demyx insisted that it could still play. Zexion stared hesitantly at the keyboard, reluctant to embarrass himself attempting to play an instrument he hadn't touched in a decade.

"Come on, Zexion! Try it!"

"Demyx… I don't remember how to play."

"How can you know if you won't try?"

"I don't even know where to start. It's been too long."

"Then close your eyes and see where your hands go. I think you'll surprise yourself."

Demyx laid his hands over Zexion's eyes, blinding him entirely. With a heavy sigh, Zexion reached toward the instrument and laid his fingers on the keys. He tried to turn off his brain and rely only on muscle memory, hoping music would come out if he didn't think about it. He plucked one key, recognizing the pitch as soon as he heard it. Pleasantly surprised to find it was the key he'd been aiming for, he plunked out a few more notes afterward. Before he realized what was happening, he was playing a song.

As he listened to the melody, one he'd learned as a child, he watched the stream of happy memories projected behind his eyelids. Ansem the Wise had always loved this particular piece, even more so if little Ienzo was playing it. He remembered the many evenings he and Master Ansem spent in front of a lovely grand piano he kept in his castle ballroom. He used to smile so brightly when he received a standing ovation after every song he played, regardless of how well he performed.

Demyx slowly removed his hands from Zexion's face, sinking back into his chair beside the apprentice. He watched with wonder and amazement, as Zexion's fingers seemed to glide up and down the keyboard. Zexion was just as awestruck. He opened his eyes and watched his hands dance over the keys, stunned that they remembered where to go. After a few moments, he reached the end of the piece, and the two sat in silence for several seconds.

"Zexion… that was awesome!"

"I… What…?"

Demyx began clapping enthusiastically. "See? I told you! It's not something you just forget! You still had it in you all this time!"

"But how…?"

"Play it again! I'll play along."

Demyx summoned his sitar and fiddled with the tuning pegs. Zexion closed his eyes and started again at the beginning, letting his fingers carry him through the piece once more. Demyx joined in after listening for a few seconds, picking out the melody with impressive accuracy. As they went on, he began to harmonize with Zexion's playing, then showing off his virtuosity by arpeggiating the chords. Listening to him play was so engaging that Zexion nearly stopped playing himself, but he made it to the end of the song for the second time, wishing it didn't have to be over.

"Yeah, baby! We could totally start a band!"

"Let's not get carried away, Demyx. So far, I can play one song."

"It's a start! Hold on, let me try to start one."

He swapped out his sitar for a regular guitar he found leaning against the wall beside them, shocking Zexion as he tuned it up and strummed a few practice chords.

"A guitar? I didn't know you played the guitar."

"I don't. I'm dumbing myself down for you," he replied with a playful wink, eliciting a laugh from Zexion.

When his instrument was sufficiently tuned, he began to play a single melody, simple enough for Zexion to pick out on the piano after a few refrains. As he played on, he added more layers to the composition. Harmonies, bass tones, chord extensions, and counter-melodies that somehow weaved together into what Zexion could only describe as a masterpiece. He struggled to keep up at first, but Demyx looped the piece endlessly, patiently waiting for Zexion to catch on. Eventually, Zexion managed to play alongside him so that their performances were synchronous.

After several minutes, Zexion was quite comfortable with the piece, and Demyx started improvising. Zexion, thankful for his quick reaction time, followed where Demyx led. Subconsciously analyzing his style and patterns, Zexion could soon anticipate his changes before he made them, and it was not long before he could improvise himself.

Demyx cheered, enjoying the experience of seeing Zexion's personality come out in his playing. Zexion was obviously classically trained, but Demyx soon could tell that his own style had developed, blending a few genres and creating a unique sound that he could call his own. Demyx was baffled over Zexion's insistence that he was not a musician.

Just in time for Zexion to run out of ideas, Demyx led them into the end of the song, finishing with an elaborate cadenza, punctuated by a humorous button. The two laughed for a long while after that, shrugging off their disbelief that they were even capable of genuine laughter and simply enjoying the moment. As their excitement wound down, Zexion stared at the keyboard, still stunned by his performance.

"Demyx, how did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You brought back my playing. I haven't touched a piano since I was a child. How did you get me to remember?"

Demyx giggled to himself. "I didn't do anything. I told you, you had it in you all along."

It was getting harder and harder to look at Demyx. His smile was captivating. Breathtaking, even. It's like he _knew_ he could turn Zexion's bones to jelly with just a look. His chest was rapidly beating, almost painfully so. He rubbed his sternum to quiet the drumming, turning away from the instrument to rest. Demyx offered a hand up, guiding him to a nearby table in a dark corner.

"I'm going to get a drink. You want anything?"

"No, thanks."

Demyx smirked as he disappeared into the next room. As soon as he was out of sight, Zexion let his head fall onto the table in a slump. The constant rush of memories was draining. He could clearly see the face of Ansem the Wise, rising to his feet and clapping with sincerity in his eyes. An unexpected wave of nostalgia washed over the young apprentice and before he could process the emotion, a single tear fell from his eye. He hastily wiped it away, taken aback by its sudden appearance.

Demyx soon returned, carrying two tiny glasses full of deep red liquid. He set one down in front of Zexion, who glanced at him with confusion.

"Demyx, I—"

"Just try it."

Zexion sighed with exasperation, staring at the beverage as if it were a specimen to study. "What is it?"

"It's called the 'Piano Man.' Now drink it."

Defeated, Zexion picked up the glass timidly, prepared to just knock it back and get it over with. Demyx lifted his in turn, clinking the glasses together. Zexion took a breath and, squeezing his eyes shut, swallowed the beverage as quickly as he could. The liquid burned the entire way down his throat and he couldn't help but cough at the clashing flavors of sweet and bitter. Demyx patted his back, chuckling at his broken innocence as he struggled to catch his breath.

"What… was in that…?"

"I honestly have no idea. But it was the weakest drink on the menu. He said women love it."

When his coughing settled down, Zexion returned to his densely tangled thoughts, reaching for more memories in which he could lose himself. He absentmindedly fiddled with the empty glass, unaware that Demyx was staring at him. They relaxed in silence for a time before Demyx decided to start the conversation for which he had planned this entire date. After several seconds of mental coaxing, he reached out and took Zexion's hand in his, gently caressing his skin with his thumb. Zexion lifted his eyes with a tender smile, waiting for Demyx to speak. Demyx cleared his throat, rubbing his neck nervously and stammering.

"Zexion… I, uh…"

Demyx looked away, pressure building in his chest. He did his best to make his confession quickly before he lost his nerve. "Well, I… I want to make it weird."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… I want to add some strings to this situation…"

Zexion impatiently raised an eyebrow. "Demyx, I don't speak whatever demonic tongues you're—"

"Okay, okay! I just," he took a long breath. "I feel stuff. I don't know what it is but it's really good stuff. Stuff that I've never felt before, I don't think."

Zexion soon regretted the shot he took as his stomach twisted itself into knots. "Tell me about this 'stuff' that you feel."

"I… well… like, there's this… Uh, sorry, I'm really bad with words."

"May I try?"

"Uh… sure. You try."

Zexion scooted closer to Demyx, soothing him with his practiced gentleness and calm demeanor. He dug deep inside himself, searching for an adequate description of his own feelings, hoping against hope that Demyx shared them. With a deep breath, and the sound of Axel's useful advice ringing in his ears, he dropped his guard and opened himself up to Demyx.

"It's like having a heart again…" he brought a hand to his chest. "Demyx, when I'm with you, I don't feel like half a person anymore."

Vibrating. His entire body was vibrating. There was electricity in him, he was sure of it. He couldn't breathe. Something was choking him. A pair of big, strong hands, squeezing his lungs. It was a sickening feeling, this anticipation. Could this be anxiety?

"When we're together, nothing else matters. All I want is to be with you. That's how I feel."

Demyx paused for a long time before letting out a heavy sigh of relief. "You uh… you hit the nail on the head…"

Zexion lit up, elated to hear Demyx agree. "You feel the same way?"

"Yeah. I can't stop thinking about you. I feel this connection and it's really… powerful." He took Zexion's hands with a look of intense desperation. "I need us to be a thing."

Zexion beamed at him with stars in his eyes. "Then… why not? Let's be a thing. What have we got to lose?"

"You're not worried about what people will think?"

Zexion shook his head. "No. We wouldn't be the only exclusive pair in the Organization. We don't have to make a show of it if you're embarrassed…"

Demyx interrupted him, frantically clarifying his words. "I'm not embarrassed! I just… well, I'd hate to ruin your reputation. You're the smart one, and I'm the dumb one, you know?"

He dropped his hands and turned away, picking at a fragment of wood splintering from the table with a despondent expression. Zexion's face softened, hurting on Demyx's behalf for the years of abuse that had undoubtedly contributed to his low self esteem. "Demyx, you're not dumb. People just told you that you are, and you believed them."

Demyx didn't look up, unconvinced by Zexion's encouraging words. He appreciated what his friend was trying to do, but his stupidity had almost become a part of his identity for how often his fellow comrades pointed it out. Over the years, he grew complacent, then content with, then accustomed to his reputation. Being the stupid one meant that nobody expected anything of him, allowing him to grow lazier and lazier as the years went on. He knew better than to complain.

"So words aren't your forte. That doesn't make you stupid. It takes intelligence to pick up an instrument you've never played and then to do what you just did tonight. You compose music all day and your skill never falters. You can play complicated material while comfortably holding a conversation with someone. That's pretty damned impressive, Demyx. I think you're very smart."

Demyx kept his gaze fixed on the table as something built inside him with mounting pressure. He squeezed his hands into fists as his throat tightened and his eyes began to burn. He bit his lip to stifle his voice as he let himself be overtaken. With no warning, he threw his arms around Zexion and embraced him tightly with his face buried in his shoulder. Zexion had said the magic word — one Demyx was certain he'd never hear applied to him in his life.

Zexion was startled, but held Demyx closely until he finally pulled away, wiping his cheeks and sniffling. "Demyx, what's wrong?"

"Sorry…" Demyx laughed sheepishly, fighting back the rest of the tears. "No one has ever called me 'smart' before."

They cuddled in their shared booth for hours. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they were silent, enjoying each other's company with no need for words. When the bartender announced that he'd be closing up for the night, they made their way back to the castle, hand in hand. They reached Demyx's door in no time, yawning and stretching their joints.

"I'm totally wiped… Tomorrow's gonna suck…"

Zexion kissed his forehead gently. "Hope that doesn't mean you regret tonight."

Demyx smirked, returning the kiss. "Of course not. Come in with me? The Moogle says he misses you."

Zexion grinned and allowed Demyx to lead him inside. He was exhausted, but the excitement from the evening still buzzed inside him. He was certain he'd never be able to sleep if he tried, and for some time, neither of them did. Even as tired as they were, they were out of their clothes in seconds after entering the room.

Sex was at last becoming somewhat familiar to Zexion. It was comfortable and easy now, finding his rhythm and relaxing into Demyx's motions. He knew what he liked and he felt safe to ask for it, and Demyx happily obliged every request. In a way, this night was like the others — fun, exhilarating, and immensely erotic — but there also was something about this encounter that was almost entirely foreign to him. Something about the look in Demyx's eyes. Something about the way he held him in his arms as he approached the end. His grip was tight — desperate, perhaps — as if he feared letting go, lest his lover float away into the abyss.

The pressure was unbearable. The sensations, the atmosphere, the heat — it was all so intense, so potent, so _fierce_… culminating in a climax like none he'd ever experienced. The pleasure was so profound that he wondered if it should even be possible for a Nobody to feel such euphoria. He clung to Demyx, unwilling to be separated for an instant. The musician was spasming in his grasp, his lips pressed against Zexion's jaw. The warmth of his ragged sighs on his ear was almost too much. He could have sworn he heard the man whisper something, but couldn't make it out.

Later, as Demyx snored beside him, clutching the stuffed Moogle, Zexion couldn't help but watch him, afraid that if he closed his eyes, he'd wake up in the morning to find it had all been a dream. He couldn't bear the thought, but what a dream it would have been. As he pressed himself against the smooth skin of Demyx's back, he was soon lulled to sleep by a familiar sound — echoing inside Demyx's chest was the steady rhythm of a quiet, slow beating.


	19. Seeds of Doubt

Axel was beginning to feel as if his persistent insomnia only tormented him when he desperately needed sleep the most. Surely his body was waiting until he was so tired that he couldn't keep his eyes open. He'd trudge through the door and kick off his boots. He'd bend over the sink and splash some water on his face. He'd turn out the light and climb into bed, and that's when it would strike. Like it _knew _how exhausted he was. The hours would pass and he would be denied the rest he figured he deserved after everything he'd been through.

Did he deserve it, though? He started to doubt that notion. His thoughts were fixed on Roxas. That poor kid. Watching him deteriorate was gut wrenching. How many hours had the two of them spent on his bathroom floor together, waiting for his vomiting spells to stop? How many times was it the ice cream Axel had brought him that made him so sick? How many headaches? How many nightmares? How many questions met with only a remorseful silence? How many broken promises? Axel couldn't be bothered to count. It didn't really matter anyway.

All the boy wanted were answers. For all the sacrifices he'd made and all the hell he'd survived, the Organization certainly owed him that much. Yet, they left him in the dark, and Axel was just as guilty as the rest of them. He'd had plenty of opportunities to spill everything, but he kept his mouth shut. Even as Roxas begged and pleaded for some sense of closure, Axel pursed his lips and turned away.

With a heavy sigh, he rose from the bed and headed for the closet to dress himself, not even sure where he would be going at this time of night. He could barely look at himself in the mirror anymore. He hated the man he saw staring back at him, wearing his face like a disguise. There was a time when he thought that man to be an honest and trustworthy friend. But that reflection was like a stranger, concealing an amassment of secrets and lies. Shameful. Despicable. Axel hardly recognized him.

He sank into the chair in front of his desk, leaning on the smattering of papers and junk on its surface. He hadn't finished his last mission report, but couldn't bring himself to write it now. It could wait until later. What could Saïx do to him anyway? He slid the drawer open, finding a few items inside that he had accumulated and tucked away for no real reason other than false sentimentality. Among the collection was an ice cream stick with the word "WINNER" printed on it. Something stung him deeply when he picked it up. Roxas had given him this. After he left the Organization, Axel found the stick inside an envelope in his room. He remembered quite vividly the hours he had spent crying after that, unable to spare a thought for why he could even cry without a heart. If he'd had one, it would have surely broken that day.

He set the stick on the desk for a moment to rummage through the drawer some more. He stumbled upon a photograph of him and Saïx. Well, Lea and Isa. It was their first day as apprentices and Lea had insisted that they pose for a picture in their new uniforms. Isa had never liked being photographed. His face was scowling as it always had been, but it was different back then. In his eyes shone genuine affection for the friend standing beside him. He could never really stay angry at Lea. Not when they were human. Not when they still had hearts.

He let out a soft chuckle when he came across a guitar pick. He had insisted to Demyx that he had forgotten how to play, but he was _Axel_. He had it _memorized_. He couldn't have forgotten even if he'd wanted to. A part of him missed those days. Arrogant and boisterous, he was a natural performer. They probably sounded like a middle school garage band being run through a washing machine, but they were having fun anyway. He wondered where their old band mates had gone. Had they died when Radiant Garden fell to darkness? He shuddered at the thought.

There were too many memories in this drawer. A frisbee, a scarf, a drawing, it was all too much for now. Axel pushed it closed and stepped over to the window, taking the ice cream stick with him. The enormous heart-shaped moon hung in the sky, right where it always was. Life had been so simple when their only objective was to figure out how to get their hearts back. Missions back then were tedious, but easy. Study the area, kill the Heartless. Keep your eyes on the prize. Go to sleep and do it all over again the next day. When they discovered that they could not collect the hearts released by the creatures, it seemed hopeless. The days grew monotonous and dull. Living without emotions didn't feel like living at all. The worlds had no color. The sun had no warmth. Those were the days where Axel felt truly empty.

He closely examined the ice cream stick as he sat on the window sill, letting his face rest against the cool glass. In their younger days, it was Saïx who came up to the clock tower with him. They'd go up there every day and enjoy their favorite treat together. It was one of life's small delights that they could still celebrate, whether they had hearts or not. It never got old. Then, Saïx started missing days. He had been given the mission coordinator position and claimed that he would get busy. Axel never lost his patience, always waiting for him with ice cream in hand. More and more days were spent up there alone, until finally Saïx stopped coming altogether. After awhile, Axel found that the ice cream didn't taste the same. The sunset wasn't as captivating a sight as it used to be. Lounging on the clock tower ledge just wasn't as fun or relaxing alone. He stopped going. There was no longer any point.

Then, Roxas showed up. The effect was nearly instantaneous. Everything began to change on that day. Axel took a chance and brought the kid to his old hangout and introduced him to his dessert of choice. It was starting to taste good again. The sky seemed to regain some of its splendor. It was all coming back. Color. Feeling. Humanity. Some days were pure and endless bliss. Others were nightmares of pain and sorrow. But the emotions were there and they were strong and they were _real. _And in this moment, feeling lower than dirt, Axel was starting to wonder if it was all worth it.

"WINNER." The letters were large and bold, excited to announce the customer's lucky find. The winning sticks are rare — only one for every three hundred, they'd say. Return it to the vendor and you get a free ice cream bar. Because you're a _winner_. The word was meant to bring a smile to one's face, but Axel could only sigh when he read it. He was no winner. He had managed to lose every friend he'd ever had, and he had no one to blame but himself. All the ice cream in the world, all the sunsets in a decade, none of it could make him feel any better now. As far as Axel was concerned, he had won nothing.

* * *

_Creature Movement Analysis:_

_Subject resides mostly below ground, crawls upon its many legs in an insect-like fashion. Does not fly, but can jump several times its own height and lunge with incredible speed. Surrounded by smaller flying creatures which seem to retain a rotating cyclone formation which they only break to attack._

_Creature Attack Patterns Analysis:_

_Subject possesses large pincer-like apparatuses on the forward segment, with which it swipes at its opponents. Sharp enough to tear through flesh. Whether or not they are venomous is unknown._

_Subject can completely submerge itself beneath the sand and take its prey by surprise._

_Smaller flying creatures seem to act alongside the larger entity as a diversion, swarming the prey to obscure vision._

_Recommendations:_

_Subject is very large and extremely powerful. Weakness to any magic elements unknown. Recommend physical attack specialists, high critical percentage._

_Team should be large, minimum of 3-5 members._

_Suggestions: Lexaeus, Xaldin, Saïx, Marluxia_

Every page was just another mess of words. In each one, Saïx hoped to find a clue, a secret, some small detail that would reveal the perfect solution. Maybe someone had found a weakness that the rest had overlooked. Perhaps the answer was right in front of him and his eyes were just too tired to see it. Investigation after investigation, report after report, and they all reached the same conclusion. This mission would be a death sentence for Roxas. As far as Saïx was concerned, it was hopeless.

He was beginning to wonder how long he'd been sitting at this desk. His back hurt. His neck hurt. Everything hurt. He squinted at the clock, appalled by the time. Not that it mattered to him — it wasn't like he ever slept anyway. Still, there were many hours left before dawn, and he wasn't about to spend them buried in these papers.

Perhaps a walk, then. He stood, stretching his aching muscles and deciding where he would be going. He wasn't hungry. He was never hungry. But some tea would be nice. The empty halls were mercifully quiet as he made his way down to the kitchen. None of the raucous assault on the ears that was Demyx's music. None of the horrendous screeching of Larxene arguing with Marluxia. Not even Axel's grating, oppressive snoring could be heard. At the very least, the silence made it a peaceful trip.

He was alone with his thoughts as he waited for the tea to brew, but he didn't want to think. He was too tired to think. Thinking was work. He stared at the kettle, as if his intimidating glower would boil the water faster. Didn't humans have a saying for this sort of thing? It didn't matter. The piercing squeal of steam shooting out of the kettle broke the hours-long silence well before he expected it.

As he sat at the table, sipping slowly and resting his eyes, he wondered to himself why he even drank tea at all. It wasn't a necessity. It didn't bring him any joy. It served him no benefit whatsoever. Maybe it was just a habit he saw no reason to change. He _always _drank tea. He simply _liked _it. There was no sense in asking why a Nobody could like anything because there was no answer to the question. Why did he read? Why did he train? Why did he watch the moon? Why did he make love?

_Don't you dare. Not now._

If anything truly perplexed him, it was his mind's persistent compulsion to torture him with thoughts of Axel. Just when Saïx was starting to feel relaxed, there he was, bursting through the doorway into his head as if he owned the place. Only Axel would be so presumptuous. Was it not enough that he was forced to look at that smug grin every day? He had to come and torment him inside his own thoughts, too?

"Saïx."

He jumped, startled by the voice of an unexpected visitor. Standing in the doorway was the only man who could boast a voice so haunting.

"Sir," Saïx greeted him awkwardly. "I was not expecting you at this hour."

To his surprise, the Superior approached and seated himself comfortably in a chair beside him. If Saïx didn't know any better, he'd say the man looked fatigued. "There are times when sleep eludes even me," he glanced at the contents of Saïx's teacup. "Although," he raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose the tea helps your situation."

Saïx frowned. "Probably not, sir."

It was already difficult to relax while back in his room, slumped over his desk and scanning the same handful of papers over and over. It was increasingly onerous to do so with thoughts of Axel distracting his already tired mind. It was _impossible_ now with Xemnas' eyes on him, watching his every gesture and listening to every inflection in his voice, as if observing a test subject. Saïx winced at a sudden cramp in his stomach, instantly alerting the Superior to his discomfort.

"You appear tense."

The cramp didn't subside, but Saïx hastily regained control of his reaction, knowing how dangerous it was to show any weakness in front of Xemnas. "I have been pouring over reconnaissance reports from Agrabah. I am in the process of planning the mission you requested," he gritted his teeth as the pain intensified. "I came here to relax."

"Hm," Xemnas tilted his head, clearly having taken notice of his comrade's plight, yet saying nothing. "I do not find this kitchen particularly relaxing."

Saïx had finished his tea and was staring intently into the empty cup, gripping it so tightly he feared he'd shatter it to pieces. "Anywhere was better than my desk."

Xemnas hummed his understanding and let the matter drop. Saïx fought to conceal the heaviness of his breaths while he waited for the spasm to end. They weren't uncommon for him, but their unpredictable nature was taxing on his nerves. After a minute, the clench released and the pain dissipated at last. From that moment, Saïx endeavored to remain guarded, should he experience another of the bothersome convulsions.

The two were quiet for a while, too tired to hold a conversation. Just as always, Xemnas had established himself as Master of doing nothing, sitting motionless and with eyes closed. Saïx wondered to himself what the man was thinking, or if he even thought at all during moments like this. As if aware of his subordinate's curiosity, Xemnas beckoned him. "Come, walk with me."

Every instinct in Saïx's being told him to stay put. To run the other way as fast as he could. But instead, he rose from his seat and followed the leader out into the hall where the two meandered at a casual pace for several minutes with no real destination in mind.

"What is happening to my Organization?" Xemnas asked after a long silence, sounding somewhat troubled.

"Sir?"

"Surely you have seen it," he elaborated. "Fights breaking out in the Round Room. Romantic encounters behind closed doors," he turned to look directly at him. "Fear so potent that it turns their stomachs."

A chill spread over Saïx's skin. The man's words were deceptively venomous, almost threatening in their delivery. Xemnas continued his observation, seemingly unaware of Saïx's unease.

"I can only assume that it is in some way related to the experiment with Roxas. Perhaps we got more than we bargained for."

Saïx had suspected as much, considering the timing of Axel's odd behavior. Ten years of keeping his distance and enjoying everyone's company but his supposed best friend's, only to suddenly wake up one day wanting to be loved again. It couldn't possibly have been a coincidence. But how any of it could be connected to Roxas and the experiment remained an unsolved mystery.

"I'm sorry, sir. I suppose I am just unobservant."

Xemnas sighed heavily, looking lost and spent. "If I had any good sense at all, I would end the experiment before they all organize a mutiny. But now, it is not so simple… we cannot lose our only keyblade wielder."

Their long, wandering trek had brought them to a familiar room. One that usually brought Saïx comfort, but now was raising goosebumps on his skin. They entered through the double doors into Addled Impasse, where Saïx instinctively approached the tall window to gaze at the moon. Its blue corona was glowing brightly with the hearts it had absorbed. It called to him. It was reaching for him. He need only open himself and grant its passage into his will. How long had it been since he had last succumbed to the moon's power? How long since he had knelt in her beams and allowed her to shower her graces over him? How long since he had offered himself and yielded to her temptation, drinking in her energy until it drove him mad?

"You, too, have been affected, Number VII."

Xemnas' voice snapped him out of it. He discovered that he'd laid his hands flat on the glass, barely able to stand on his own with knees so weakened. He composed himself, turning away from the window and crossing his arms.

"You are mistaken, sir."

"Why is it that you will not share your concerns with your Superior? Why all this trepidation? I thought," he donned a sorrowful expression. "That we could always talk."

The Superior's voice had changed. Saïx whipped his head around, expecting to see an entirely different man standing there. It was still Xemnas, but something had flashed through him. His facial expressions were usually so practiced and so clean, but now there were glaring flaws. The performance was slipping. There was conflict in him now. It was visible. Palpable. Saïx could scarcely believe his eyes.

"What is it you'd like to talk about, Superior?" He chose his words carefully, aiming to hold the man in this state and interrogate him. He looked like Xemnas. He was in Xemnas' body, but he wasn't Xemnas.

"I am concerned about your health, Saïx."

Saïx knew better than to believe those words. He stood his ground. "There is nothing wrong with me, sir. I suffer from insomnia. That's all."

Xemnas strolled gracefully to his side, peering over his shoulder at their reflections in the window. "You are unwell. You are distracted. You are in pain."

The twinge in his stomach was returning. It spread from the center of his core and through his limbs. His head began to pound, as if he were being repeatedly struck between the eyes.

"Superior, I insist, I am quite healthy."

He could feel the moon's sharp pull from the depths of his bones. The sound of its call was deafening. He covered his ears to shut it out, yet it only screamed louder, demanding to be heard. He looked up at the window and caught a glimpse of his mirror image. His face was beginning to shift. Xemnas was smiling. Saïx squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to watch his inevitable transformation.

Xemnas stepped behind him, taking him by the shoulders, dragging his thumbs along his musculature like a sensual massage. Saïx flinched at his touch, longing to escape, but too weak to wriggle out of his grip. The leader bowed his head, whispering into his subordinate's ear.

"Tell me what Axel has done."

The man was so close that his breath grazed Saïx's skin. He shuddered at the sickening warmth. "I'm not sure what you are referring to."

"He has harmed you in some fashion. Abandoned you yet again," the Superior cooed. "It would be _only natural _to feel betrayed… perhaps even heartbroken."

"Sir, I am not capable of—"

"You _ache_ for him. You _pine_ for him. Yet he has already replaced you. Now, you have no one."

The pounding on his forehead was so forceful that Saïx could hear it echoing inside his skull. His thoughts were a blur. His vision tunneled as he raised his head to stare at the glowing moon. It was so bright. Almost blinding. Its voice was piercing. It was whittling him down bit by bit, tearing through his defenses like thin paper. He was pitifully fragile. He was made of glass. It was only a matter of time before he shattered.

He felt Xemnas' grasp tightening. "Ah, but there is no need to feel lonely. For you know that you are never truly alone. Isn't that right, Recusant?"

"Recusant?"

"Saïx," his voice lowered to a most sinister register. "You are my most trusted right hand. There is nowhere that you can go where I will not follow. I have eyes inside the space where your heart used to be."

Saïx was granted a moment of clarity. Xemnas' claim was baffling. He hadn't a clue what the man was talking about and wondered if perhaps he was just trying to disturb him so that he would accept the moon's proposition. He turned to his Superior, questioning him with only a look, and Xemnas continued his cryptic revelation.

"You know this. You have sensed it. There is nothing that you can hide from me."

Saïx backed away from the Superior, who only matched his speed and closed in on him. "S-sir? What do you mean?"

It wasn't long before Saïx made contact with the window, pinned against the glass by Xemnas' imposing form standing directly in front of him, smiling down at him quite menacingly.

"I sense that you require a nudge in the right direction. I have the perfect remedy for your wounds."

"Superior… what are you going to do?"

Xemnas reached out and gently clasped his fingers around Saïx's arm. "I only wish to relieve your pain. Ease those regrets which plague you. Detach you from your vices so that you can be strong again."

Saïx quickly shrugged out of his grasp, averting his eyes from the leader's frightening gaze. "Sir, please…"

"Why do you fear me? I care about you. I care about all of my comrades. I am here to help."

"I don't need any help. Xemnas, please, don't—"

He was taken by the arm again, putting forth no resistance as Xemnas turned him back around to face the window. "You asked me to make you strong. When he broke your heart, you begged me to take away the pain," he gestured to the sky with a dramatic sweep of his arm. "I gave you the moon. I filled that void for you. I rid you of your emptiness. Your loneliness. Why do you resist the moon's advances? Does it not exhilarate you anymore? Does it not feel good?"

Saïx longed to speak, but was silenced by a constricting sensation in his throat. Certain that he was being choked, he began to wheeze frantically. The abdominal cramping intensified and he doubled over, his knees threatening to give out and drop him to the floor. He was surely about to vomit. The throbbing in his head was explosive in its magnitude, crippling in its persistence. The noise was dizzying. His resolve was collapsing. This battle was already lost. He feared he might black out.

"_Relax, _Number VII. Unmanaged stress can take such a toll on the body. Do you want to fall ill?"

He could barely croak his plea. "Lord Xemnas, I beg you, don't do this. I lose all control in that state. It isn't pleasurable. It won't help."

Xemnas crossed his arms with a disappointed sigh. "In a way, Saïx, I envy you. What I wouldn't give to be afflicted by such strong emotions," he shook his head sadly. "All I feel now is pity."

All of Saïx's energy was devoted to fighting the desire to let himself be smothered in the moon's crushing embrace. Try as he did with all his strength, he couldn't tear his eyes off of its luminescent beams. "It isn't worth it, sir…"

"Axel has severely compromised you. I can take him out of the picture if he is causing you such distress."

To his utter shock and horror, a single tear fell from his eye. He hastily wiped it away before the Superior could see it. "N-no… you mustn't… Please, sir, don't hurt him."

"You must care very much for him, to allow yourself to suffer this much for his sake."

There was such anguish. Such despair. Saïx drowned in it. The vulnerability only invited the moon to penetrate him at last. He could feel its power surging through him, pulsing beneath his skin.

Xemnas moved nearer to him, using his ominous words as lethal weapons, targeting Saïx's weaknesses and landing critical hits with every blow. "If it were not for Roxas and this experiment, you would have Axel all to yourself."

"Superior… Why are you doing this…?"

"Without Roxas, you wouldn't feel such pain."

"Please… Xemnas…"

"At the same time, however, it is thanks to Roxas that you can feel that glimpse of euphoria. It is because of this experiment that you feel such elation when you're with him, and it is because of this experiment that I bother keeping either of them around."

He was a boy again. No older than sixteen. Scared to death. Standing between a young Lea and a powerful keyblade, only to be kicked aside and forced to watch the man take his friend first. He could still taste the blood from when he collided with a nearby desk. He could still hear Lea scream over the deafening crack of the bonds in their hearts being broken, forever tainting their friendship with the metaphysical separation.

"Think of it. What would Axel say if anything happened to Roxas? He'd never forgive you. He'd desert the Organization and leave you in the dust. And do you know what will have to happen then?"

He was a younger man now. Not yet twenty. Bruised and broken to pieces. Kneeling before his Superior and begging for relief. He could feel the searing agony on his forehead as the darkness burned the mark into his flesh. He remembered thinking that as painful as it was, it hurt less than losing Lea, and that if he had it to choose, he would have chosen the same fate a second time.

"Lose Roxas and you lose Axel forever, and Roxas certainly hasn't been in the best condition as of late…"

He no longer had the fortitude to stand. He crumpled to the floor in a heap, his body heaving with his labored breaths. He lost his coherence little by little as a primal, animal instinct took over.

"The moon shines down on you, Luna Diviner."

"The moon…"

"Let it overwhelm you. It calls to you, Saïx. Do you not hear it?"

"I hear it… it's so loud…"

"And it feels better, doesn't it?"

"The moon revitalizes me…"

"You feel stronger."

"_The moon shines down…_"

"Yes… that's very good. Surrender yourself to it."

There was no longer thought. There were no memories. His mind was blank, except for his rage. His pain. The omnipresent urge to kill.

"I'm glad we had this discussion, Number VII. It is always good to check in with you every once in awhile."

Xemnas kept his distance, wearing a haunting, satisfied smile on his face. He turned to leave, politely bidding his farewells with expert poise.

"Have a pleasant evening. I shall see you in the morning."


	20. In Too Deep

"_Crying again? Really, Lea, it's astounding how weak you can be…"_

"_Crying isn't weak, Isa! Running away from it is!"_

"_Don't be a fool. You have no heart. These tears are just a falsehood… the cruel torments of your memories, playing tricks on you…"_

"_Isa… what are you doing?"_

"_Fear not, Lea. I have a solution that will dry your tears for good…"_

"_No! Isa, please! Don't!"_

The bright flash of light jerked Axel from his dream. He was still sitting on his windowsill, bathed in the light of the moon, clutching the WINNER ice cream stick tightly in his hand. It took several seconds to catch his breath after the sudden fright. He peered over at his clock to see how long he'd been asleep, finding that it was well after midnight. Just as he was deciding that it was high time to go to bed, something out the window caught his eye and his stomach dropped like a ton of bricks: the moon's electric blue corona, glowing brightly and reaching right for the castle.

He jumped down from the windowsill, slipping his boots and coat back on and tossing the ice cream stick into a desk drawer. Without even pausing to check himself in the mirror, he bolted out the door and raced to the nearby winding staircase. He climbed the stairs as quickly as he could, skipping steps on his way to the top. He sprinted down corridor after corridor, glancing out the windows as he passed, silently pleading that he wouldn't be too late. It wasn't long before he rounded the final corner and entered Addled Impasse, the favored room of his old friend.

When he arrived, he saw a familiar figure on the other end of the room. Saïx was leaning with his palm against the window, staring at the moon, his whole torso rising and falling with his heavy breaths.

"Isa…?"

The man did not answer. He didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard Axel's call. Axel hurried toward the window, dreading what he might find when he reached him.

"Isa! Can you hear me?"

He took Saïx by the shoulders and wheeled him around so that he could see his face. Instantly, he discovered that his predictions had been correct, and his breath caught at the sight of his condition. The X-shaped scar on his face had grown larger and developed jagged edges, appearing to be freshly cut, reopened from the inside. His eyes glowed as though beams of bright yellow light had replaced them. His appearance was disheveled; his coat hung askew and his hair was unkempt.

Saïx, barely able to recognize him, did not move or speak, and his breath rattled as he wheezed hoarsely. He only stared blankly at Axel with his terrifying eyes as the moon channeled its power to him.

"Isa, no! Don't do this now!"

With a deaf ear to Axel's pleas, Saïx hunched over as the energy from the moon overwhelmed him. With a thunderous roar, he lunged at Axel, pinning him against the window with incredible strength. Axel remained still, knowing better than to struggle when Saïx was berserking.

"Stop it, Isa! It's me!"

For just a second, Axel caught a brief glimpse of his normal eyes, still a pale yellow, but at least human-looking. Saïx squeezed them shut, wincing and rubbing his forehead. He released Axel and walked away without a word, still wheezing and hunching his back. Axel approached him cautiously, taking care not to startle him.

"Isa…? Are you alright?"

Saïx turned to the window again, his gaze fixed on the moon. In seconds, his berserk state was restored, and he growled his battle taunts between shallow gasps.

"Can you feel the moon's power?"

"Knock it off, Isa! You don't need this. You're not in danger."

It was a compulsive action to berserk when Saïx felt threatened or enraged, making it quite a useful weapon in battle. However, it took quite a beating to knock him out of it, and that was no easy task given the man's amplified strength and ferocity. Axel detested being forced to subdue him with violence. Most of the time, he would just restrain the man in his quarters with all-night supervision. To make matters worse, he would every so often fly into his berserk state for seemingly no reason at all, and in those moments, it was as if he couldn't even control the condition. Axel would ask him what had triggered the bouts, but Saïx always claimed he couldn't remember anything.

Saïx, growing more savage by the second, summoned his massive claymore and slowly made his way toward Axel, dragging it along the ground, leaving sparks in its wake. Axel raised his arms, shaking his head. "I'm not fighting you this time, Isa. We're going downstairs and you're going to wait this out."

"_The moon… shines down…_"

"I'm sure it does. Put that away. You're coming with me."

"_Moon, shine down!_"

He raised the claymore above his head in a challenging stance, but Axel did not flinch, refusing to provoke him further. Suddenly, he abruptly dropped his weapon and doubled over, uttering what sounded like pained grunts. Axel rushed to his side, hoping he'd managed to shake it off without the need to use force. "Hey, are you okay? Isa?"

Saïx looked up at Axel's face, his expression difficult to read. His eyes had returned to normal, and his awareness was returning slowly. "Lea… the moon… I could not resist…"

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Isa. You know this is dangerous. Now let's go."

He grabbed Isa by the sleeve and guided him toward the doorway, but soon felt resistance and was forced to stop. He turned to find Isa once again being overcome by the moon's power and drawn into berserk. Determined to stop him, Axel yanked him away from the window. "Damn it, Isa! Just stop!"

Saïx wrestled himself from Axel's grip and summoned his claymore once again. With an explosive shout, he turned on Axel with fangs bared and weapon at the ready.

"_Be gone, ingrate!_"

He swung his blade with incredible speed, unleashing a vicious flurry of attacks on his former friend. Axel, having faced Saïx in battle more times than he could ever count, summoned his chakrams just in time to block his opponent's blows.

"Isa! It's me! Stop it!"

Saïx continued to fight relentlessly, throwing enormous shockwaves around the room in a desperate rage. He laid into Axel with his claymore, but Axel managed to guard against every swing.

"I'm not going to fight you, Isa! Give it up!"

"_Fool! All shall be lost to you!_"

Axel managed to block and parry every one of Saïx's attacks, but had no plan for getting either of them out of this situation unscathed. As he was trying to come up with a solution, Saïx surprised him from behind and slammed his claymore into his shoulder with all of his strength. Axel fell to his knees, blinded by the sudden intense pain, and Saïx threw another blow, hitting him in the side and knocking the wind out of him.

Spitting blood, Axel activated his limit break, having run out of options. With his good arm, he tossed his flaming chakram at the beastly Saïx and managed to hit him squarely in the jaw, knocking him down and stunning him. Both men, brought to their knees from battle, panted in silence while waiting to see who would make the next move. Axel slowly rose to his feet and approached the motionless Saïx, trying to see if he'd successfully forced him out of berserk. Saïx kept his head down, appearing to still be stunned, but as soon as Axel was close enough, the man raised his head, flashing his glowing eyes and lunging at him ferociously, wrapping his hands around his neck. Axel, no match for his brute strength, could only appeal to his old friend, helplessly trapped in his fierce choke hold.

"Isa…" he croaked, struggling to draw breath. "Will you be able to live with yourself… if you kill me now?"

To Axel's shock, Saïx's eyes lost their glow again, widening at the realization of what was happening. He released his friend immediately, doubling over with his head in his hands, visibly shaken by the encounter and desperately trying and failing to suppress the berserk. The moon's call was deafening, and he covered his ears, frantically shutting out the temptation as he fell to his knees in despair.

"Isa!" Axel bolted his side, hoping he hadn't hurt him. He watched with pity as the man fought off the beast threatening to take him over, ever a losing battle. His facial expressions shifted rapidly between panic and confusion as he barely managed to stifle the uncontrollable rage.

"You have to fight it, Isa! Don't listen to it!"

"Do you hear it…?"

"Stop it. Listen to me. Block it out and listen to my voice," he gripped the man's shoulder, keeping him grounded. "It's okay. You're safe. It's only me, I'm not a threat."

"The moon's call…"

"That's enough. We're going downstairs."

Disregarding the intense pain from his injuries, he pulled the monstrous Saïx to his feet and escorted him out into the hallway. It took some doing, but he was able to drag the man to his bedroom, where he raced to the window to draw the shade before Saïx could get a glimpse of the moon's glow. Having done this so many times that it was routine, Saïx dropped himself into the desk chair, staring into space and waiting to be restrained.

"I'm not tying you up this time. You just sit there and keep quiet." Axel sat on the bed, nursing his injuries, watching Saïx intently for any sign of the berserk returning. It was going to be a long night, and for once he was thankful for his intermittent bouts of insomnia.

"You're hurt…"

Saïx spoke softly, his voice hoarse from the savage roaring. Axel had pulled off his coat to inspect the damage, finding a colorful collection of mean-looking bruises. The injuries were ugly and excruciating, but knowing what Saïx was capable of, Axel considered himself lucky. It could have been a lot worse.

"Yeah, no shit. You were pretty ruthless this time."

Saïx dropped his eyes and was quiet again, as ordered. Axel stood in front of the mirror on the wall, testing the usefulness of his arm in this condition. His left shoulder, collar bone, and likely a rib or two had been hit. His range of motion and strength were heavily limited, making the arm pretty much useless. Unfortunately, Saïx required a constant watch, so he would have to wait until morning before he could have Vexen fix him. He could only hope the damage wouldn't be permanent.

"That looks broken…"

"That's because it probably is."

"Let me help…"

"You stay in your chair."

"Lea…"

"I don't need any help. Stay put."

Axel limped back to the bed, carefully lowering himself onto the mattress with a grimace. As time passed, Saïx obediently remained in his chair, silent and unmoving, while Axel did his best to keep an eye on him. The pain only continued to intensify, and he grew dizzy as the hours dragged on. The injuries had swollen considerably and the bruises continued to spread rapidly over his skin. The entire joint was stiff, completely immobilizing half of his upper body. Eventually, the spinning in his head became so disorienting that he had to lie down, fighting to remain conscious. At this point, Axel was not troubled by the severity of his injuries or the magnitude of the pain. What concerned him was that he would be completely defenseless, should Saïx's berserk state reactivate.

"A cold shower…"

"What?"

"For the swelling and the pain. A cold shower. It's better than nothing…"

"I'm not leaving you alone out here."

"I'll go in with you."

Axel paused at this idea. Taking him into the bathroom would be the equivalent of locking him in a closet where he could not see, and therefore could not be tempted by, the moon. He was wary of letting Saïx out of the chair, but the pain was becoming unbearable and he feared he would go into shock and lose consciousness if something wasn't done. If nothing else, a cold shower would keep him awake. "All right. A cold shower it is. Let's go."

He tried to raise himself from the bed but in his pain and weakness, he couldn't bear his own weight. Saïx cautiously approached him and gently lifted him to a standing position. Axel groaned from the soreness as he allowed Saïx to lead him into the shower. Once the water was on, he slid to the floor and let it pour over him, trying to become numb to the pain. Saïx sat beside him in solidarity, getting just as wet and cold as he was.

Neither man spoke as they let themselves be drenched by the icy water. To Axel's relief, Saïx showed no signs of any additional influence from the moon. After a long while, he could tell the freezing water had improved the swelling, since his joints didn't feel so stiff as they had earlier. Still, the slightest touch or movement, even the act of drawing in a breath, was excruciating. He hadn't realized how shallow his breathing had become in response, and despite the cold mist on his skin, he was feeling lightheaded, trembling so violently that Saïx had taken notice.

"You're shaking. I can turn it off…"

"I'm fine."

"Lea, your lips are blue."

Axel didn't answer him, closing his eyes and letting himself succumb to the fatigue. He felt a hand on his cheek, lightly nudging him awake.

"Lea. You're supposed to be supervising me. No sleeping on the job."

Axel sprang his eyes open, clinging to consciousness with all his strength of will. His vision tunneled as he lost air, reluctant to jostle his shattered rib cage with a breath. He began to welcome the idea of passing out. At least then he could escape this hell. He let his breathing come to a gradual stop, relieved by the brief absence of the pain.

Calling to him was useless. Shaking him would only hurt him. Saïx had risen to his knees, prepared to lift him out of the shower if he fainted. Cautiously, he leaned in to closely inspect Axel's injuries. His shoulder was a mess, swollen and disfigured, and the bruises blooming around the side of him were almost completely black in appearance. It was no wonder the man wasn't breathing. He gently prodded at the more alarming spots, eliciting a hiss from Axel.

"Don't touch me!"

"Lea, I can help—"

"You've helped enough."

"I'm not going to sit here and watch you suffocate. At least let me set this so you can breathe."

Axel knew his protests would be ignored either way. He had vivid memories of Saïx's ad-hoc approach to repairing his broken body after combat, and none of those memories were pleasant. But he was in no condition to fight him on this. His only choice was to relent. "Fine… just make it quick."

Too squeamish to watch, he turned his head away while Saïx went to work, pressing into his side with fingers that felt as sharp as daggers. Every touch shot through him like a lightning bolt, sending waves of pain over his whole body. He gritted his teeth and kept quiet, biting his lip and trying not to listen to the sound of his own bones popping. He clenched his fist so hard that his knuckles turned white and his fingernails nearly punctured his palms. He was thankful that the ever falling water hid the tears streaming down his face.

Saïx was talking to him. Trying to keep him awake, Axel supposed. The voice was so quiet and smooth. So calm. The words were muffled and distant. Echoey. Instructing him to hold still and relax. Something about his breathing. Slow and deep, he said. _Don't go to sleep_. The room was getting dark. His eyelids were so heavy. _Don't go to sleep, Lea. _He sounded afraid, Axel thought to himself. _Stay with me. I'm almost done._ Apologizing? Was he apologizing? Did Axel hear correctly?

"Lea, I said stay awake."

"I can't…"

"You can. You must."

Saïx endeavored to finish the job swiftly, unwilling to draw out Axel's agony any longer than was necessary. The damage was extensive, far worse than he had let on. Though he was careful, he prioritized speed over gentleness, just as he always had. Even back in their sparring days, he loathed that he was forced to intensify Axel's pain, if only for a few moments. Putting the unpleasant thoughts out of his mind and disregarding the dull twinge in his chest, he did what he could to stabilize Axel's fractured and dislocated bones. He was rapidly losing the man to shock and babbled constantly to keep him conscious. There was so much water. His fingers slipped all over Axel's wet skin. Ribs were so hard to set. The shoulder wouldn't budge. Saïx could only apologize over and over for doing such a sloppy job fixing the mess he'd made in the first place. _I did this. I broke these bones. What sort of monster am I? _Axel was so brave. So strong. He didn't deserve this. _Please, forgive me… _

Finally, he was able to complete his work in a few sharp movements, setting Axel's ribs in place and giving him room to breathe at last. "There. That should suffice for now. Breathe deeply, no matter how much it hurts."

Axel stayed in the shower until the water no longer felt cold enough to ease the pain. With help from Saïx, he returned to the bed, swatting him away when he offered a towel. He perched on the edge of the mattress, letting the frigid air dry his skin. Saïx sat beside him, barely masking the concern in his eyes.

"You should lie down."

"Why aren't you in your chair?"

"Lea, this is ridiculous. What do you have to gain by suffering needlessly?"

"I prevent this from happening to anyone else, that's what!" It hurt to raise his voice, and Axel regretted shouting almost immediately, wincing upon finishing his sentence.

Axel's piercing words silenced him, backing him into a corner with no adequate response to offer. Saïx only stared with a defeated expression, out of ideas for getting his friend comfortably through the night. There were still some hours left and he was in terrible shape. He could scarcely recall ever feeling so helpless as he did now.

He sat lost in thought for awhile. Xemnas' threats stuck in his mind. He had no doubt the Superior would make good on his promise to do away with Axel and Roxas the very moment they stopped being useful to him. Xemnas had managed to invoke the berserk in him by making him feel fear so potent he was nearly convinced that it was real. But more disturbing were those tiny glimpses of humanity he witnessed on Xemnas' face. Saïx could have sworn he saw remorse in his eyes as he forced his subordinate into his violent episode. Was he correct in his hypothesis that the Organization was relearning how to feel? Had they at last found a way to experience emotions without hearts?

Axel spent the hours constantly glancing at the clock, certain that time was standing still. The pain was indescribable, and the swelling had returned since he left the shower. Nauseated, he kept his head down, resting on his knee and trying not to vomit. Sweat glistened on his pale skin, matting his hair to his face and neck. With watering eyes, he took in each excruciating breath deeply through his nose, the only thing keeping the nausea at bay.

Saïx dwelled on their argument from the other day. He recalled his own searing words, his biting insults, fired like bullets aimed directly at Axel's most personal vulnerabilities. It didn't seem possible, but he regretted everything he'd said that night. He would never forget the look on his old friend's face as he stood there and accepted every blow, too stunned to retaliate. And even when he had every opportunity, no matter what unforgivable things Saïx had said, the man never once fought back. Of course he didn't. He wouldn't stoop so low.

And just like the faithful friend he always was, Axel came for him and rescued him from his own demons _again_. Despite everything that was said, he saved him, only to be repaid with a vicious attack that left him with injuries so gruesome it was a wonder he was still conscious. Xemnas used such perfect warnings to draw Saïx into his berserk state, and in his beastly rage, he'd ended up brutalizing the very person he'd sought to protect. He remembered well those first days after Axel brought Roxas back from the simulated town, bloodied and broken, barely in one piece. He wondered to himself, was this how Axel felt in those days? This deep, throbbing pain in his chest? This unclean sensation on his skin? This sickly churn in his stomach? Was this guilt? Was this shame?

Axel's condition continued to deteriorate at a rapid pace. Saïx longed to look away, disturbed by the grisly sight, but he maintained a watch on him, monitoring his health and atoning for his actions. He considered watching his friend suffer, unable to do anything to help, to be a fitting punishment for what he did to him. After hours of tense silence, he heard Axel's quavering voice call for him.

"Isa…" Axel whispered between ragged breaths. His battered form wavered, threatening to topple off the bed.

"I'm here," Saïx caught him just as he began to fall and carefully lifted him back into his place on the bed. "It will be dawn in less than an hour. You've done well, Lea. Hold on just a little longer."

Axel could no longer respond. It hurt to speak, and all he could manage were soft groans to communicate to his unwitting chaperone.

"Lea… It's not like I haven't tried. I want it back as badly as you do. But it's gone. I've given up."

He saw Axel wince at his words. He pressed on, hoping his jumbled thoughts might make sense if he spoke them aloud. "But…" he took a heavy breath. "I don't think _he_ has."

Axel said nothing, lacking even the strength to pick his head up and look at the man. Saïx was always so cryptic, it was often difficult to decipher his message through the riddles. With a soft sigh, indicating that he was listening, Axel waited for him to elaborate.

"The person I used to be… a recklessly driven youth, fiercely loyal to his friends, determined to achieve his goals regardless of the cost… He hears you calling out to him. And I feel him attempting to answer."

Axel longed to look Saïx in the eyes, desperate to see the expression on his face. These words were frighteningly uncharacteristic for Saïx, and Axel's chest fluttered at the thought of having finally gotten through to him.

"His will has been stifled. After so many years of being silenced, he gave up reaching out. But… he is not lost. He is trapped."

His cry for help couldn't have been more clear. Summoning the fortitude to lift his head, Axel turned to face him. He gasped when he realized that he was looking not at Saïx, but at Isa. They shared the same face, but he could sense the presence of his friend, buried deep inside the hardened exterior that had become Saïx.

"Have you ever seen quicksand?" Saïx continued. "It's a fascinating phenomenon. It looks harmless, disguising itself as just an ordinary puddle of mud. But once a creature enters, it is slowly swallowed alive by the sand. A dreadful way to go, if you ask me."

Axel listened intently, waiting for him to make his point, disturbed by the imagery that he described.

"It can be cruel and vicious as well. The more one struggles to escape, the faster they sink. Eventually, you reach a point where not even the strongest forces could pull you out. You're simply in too deep… and you've no choice but to let yourself drown."

Axel stared open-mouthed at Saïx, finally understanding what he was trying to say. His face was still hard to read, but he was certain he saw another flash of several powerful emotions from behind the man's eyes. Regret, remorse, sadness, fear… their appearance was brief, but there was no mistaking them. Then, as quickly as they had come, they were gone again, just like every other time.

"It's not too late… Isa… "

Saïx let his guard down once more, revealing the same glimpse of emotion on his face. He turned away, hiding his lapse in control from Axel. "You shouldn't talk. You could aggravate the injuries—"

"Isa… I hear you. I know you're in there… and I miss you."

Saïx kept his eyes fixed on the wall, utilizing all of his self control in a futile effort to bury away the feelings he could no longer ignore. He desperately wanted to believe the lies — that the emotions were just illusions born from memories. But they felt so real that even he could be fooled if he failed to bottle them up. That vulnerability made him weak, and Xemnas took advantage of him when he was weak. It was imperative that he remain strong, or he would surely hurt Lea again.

"I see Roxas every morning when he comes to see you off. He puts on a smile for your sake. But after you've gone, he drops the facade. His pain and suffering are palpable. He looks at me with complete desolation in his eyes before he walks away. Each day he returns having deteriorated a little more. And I find myself wondering… just what the hell we have done to him…"

Saïx could feel his composure beginning to collapse as he allowed the emotions to wash over him. The moon's call seemed louder than before, and he struggled to block out the temptation of its dark power. Just as he began to succumb to the berserk, he felt Axel grip his shoulder tightly.

"Look at me, Isa."

Saïx met Axel's gaze with his own. His friend locked on with a stern face, but his soft eyes remained as gentle as they always were.

"That's enough for now."

They sat in silence for the remainder of the night. Axel clung to Saïx's sleeve, his only anchor to consciousness. He kept his eyes closed, lest the dizziness make him sick. Every minute crawled by, each feeling like an hour. Finally, dawn arrived, and he could feel Saïx helping to lift him to his feet, ready to take him to Vexen at last.

"Easy does it… be careful, Lea…"

Thankfully, it was still early enough that no one else was awake. Axel dreaded having to explain the injuries to Vexen, let alone anyone else they might have run into on the way. They took their time as he limped and staggered his way down the stairs, leaning heavily on Saïx for balance. When they reached the door to the lab, they were greeted by a sleepy-looking Zexion, whose eyes widened at the sight of them.

"Axel! What happened to you?"

"Uh… sleepwalking," Axel croaked hoarsely as the two were ushered through the door. With difficulty, he climbed onto the examination table, squinting at the bright light shining over him. Vexen gracefully strolled over to the table with a little more energy than anyone should have at this time of day, stopping short with a gasp when he laid eyes on Axel.

"My goodness, what have we here?"

"I fell out of bed."

"And down a flight of stairs?" He cautiously prodded at the swollen, bruised skin, closely inspecting the injuries. "Ah well, it doesn't look so bad. Zexion, can you handle this? I'm already late."

"Of course. Good luck on your mission."

Vexen smiled and patted the young apprentice on the head before heading out the door. Saïx stepped in toward the exam table and surreptitiously brushed his hand over Axel's knee. "People will begin arriving in the Grey Area soon. I need to get to work. Don't worry, I've taken you off the schedule for today."

Axel met Saïx's hand with his own, smiling at him with gratitude in his eyes. "Come visit me later, okay?"

Saïx smiled back in his own way, responding only with a subtle nod and a glint in his eyes before straightening his disheveled appearance and exiting the lab. For the first time in many years, Axel found it hard to watch him go. He wanted the man to stay. He wanted to hold his hand while Zexion mercilessly jerked his shoulder back into place. He wanted to go back to bed and fall into a narcotics-induced sleep in his arms. He wanted things to be the way they were before. Like he had described to Zexion that night. And, maybe now, after years of living like enemies and pretending that they couldn't feel anything, that possibility was in their grasp. Maybe now, that fantasy could finally be real.


	21. The Wrench

Zexion's first impulse was to be annoyed. He'd been having such a nice dream, only to be rudely interrupted by a tickling sensation on his ear. He tried to swat it away and go back to sleep, but just as he started to sink, the tickle returned. He gradually floated back into consciousness, now aware of the soft lips and warm breath brushing over his cheek, along his neck, down his shoulder… It was so pleasant an awakening that he regretted his initial aggravation. Smiling, he rolled over to greet his persistent alarm clock and was quickly met with an impatient kiss from Demyx.

"Morning, sunshine," Demyx chuckled against his jaw as he tracked more nips down his face.

"You're awake before me?" Zexion asked with an eyebrow raised, ruffling the man's hair. "That's a first."

"Eh, I had to pee," Demyx rose, climbing over him and hovering there, staring down at him with an amorous gleam in his eyes. "But then I came back and you just looked so _pretty_. Couldn't fall back asleep after that."

Zexion couldn't help but laugh. He'd never been described as 'pretty' before and found the description rather amusing. "I'm not sure I deserve all this flattery."

Demyx flashed another winning smile. "You want something else instead?"

He bent down and continued to plant kisses all over Zexion's torso. Shuddering at each one, Zexion's fingers closed tightly around the sheets beneath him as heat spread over his skin. It wasn't long before he felt a familiar rising tension between his legs, and if the incessant prodding against his hip was any indicator, he was clearly not alone in his plight. His answer would have been a resounding yes, please if he could guarantee there would be time enough for the encounter. Giggling and with much reluctance, he was barely able to pry Demyx off of him long enough to find out.

"What time is it?"

Demyx squinted at the clock on the bedside table. "It's, uh… quarter past eight."

"What?!" Zexion gasped, suddenly feeling much more awake and less relaxed. "I'm supposed to already be in the lab!"

"Hey, come on, Vexen's not there to scold you."

"But—"

Demyx resumed the playful barrage of kisses, blotting his lips over Zexion's skin like an artist carefully laying the first strokes of a paintbrush on fresh canvas, every one of them expertly calculated and executed with the gentlest touch. "Come on, stay just a few minutes."

"I don't have time, Demyx, I'm sorry…"

Zexion's words diminished into soft gasps. Demyx's kisses were passionate, almost desperate now, but his hands were viciously delicate. Gliding down his chest in a tantalizing caress. Dragging so slowly up his thigh that he ached for more. It was the perfect tease, and Zexion felt himself quickly weakening to it.

"D-Demyx…"

"I can be quick."

The tension was maddening. The heat was unbearable. His body quivered with desire and Demyx ate it up. Just when he was about to finally surrender, there was a knock at his door.

"Who the hell would knock at this hour?"

"Shh—!"

There was a mad scramble to ready themselves for whatever company waited just outside the room. It was the fastest they'd ever managed to throw on their uniforms, not even having the chance to settle their arousal before squeezing into the painfully restricting leather pants. After a quick glance in the mirror for each of them, Zexion took a moment to regain his composure and cautiously opened the door. Saïx stood on the other side, holding a clipboard and wearing his usual vacant stare.

"Zexion," he greeted him blankly, his eyes darting over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Demyx awkwardly standing in the background. "I hope I haven't interrupted anything."

Zexion could already feel the burning red tones pouring into his cheeks as they spoke. "Of course not. I, uh… I overslept. My apologies."

Saïx graciously made no mention of Zexion's flustered demeanor and continued with his reason for visiting. "I would not have come if it were not urgent. Might I speak with you," his glare shifted to Demyx. "Alone?"

Demyx stepped forward with his hands in his pockets, keeping his head lowered and looking sheepish. He whispered to Zexion on his way out, barely concealing a subtle smirk. "I'll see you later."

When he was gone, Zexion invited Saïx inside, and the man wasted no time with his message. "You might want to sit down."

A nauseating shiver passed over him as he slowly sank into his desk chair. He swallowed hard, clasping his fingers together so that they wouldn't tremble. "What is it, Saïx?"

"I felt it necessary to inform you that we have not received a report from Vexen in two days."

There was a heavy thud in his chest, so forceful that it knocked the wind out of him. For the moment, he wasn't certain what he should say in response. His mind had been completely wiped of thought, and for the first time, there was nothing pleasurable about it. "Maybe he just… hasn't written anything? Perhaps he hasn't made any significant observations and felt no need to—"

"Vexen was consistently sending reports back to us at the exact same time every day. When there was nothing to report, he noted as much," Saïx paused, almost as if giving Zexion a moment to process the news. It was uncharacteristic for him to display such consideration for a fellow comrade's feelings — false as they may be — but Zexion appreciated it all the same.

Thoughts trickled back into his mind in a slow cascade of questions, worries, and regrets. The last time he saw Vexen was so brief, so fleeting. He assumed the man would come back from his mission perfectly fine as usual, and therefore saw no need for any grandiose farewells. The scientist rushed out the door of the lab and hurried off to his assignment, and Zexion already had his hands full with Axel's injuries and Roxas' examination. Did he even say goodbye to him? His hands started to shake, despite his efforts, and he clenched them into fists, hoping Saïx hadn't noticed.

"If you feel up to it," Saïx continued in a shockingly somber tone. "I have summoned everyone for a briefing, wherein I will present the schedule for our search."

"Yes… I'll come along," Zexion pressed into his temples, his head now sore from the rush of anxiety. "Will I be on that schedule?"

"Only if the situation becomes desperate. I need you here to care for Roxas," Saïx averted his gaze, fixating on the window. His expression changed. It was lightning fast, but Zexion had seen it clear as day. He rose to his feet and approached, ready to confront him, but knowing that he'd been caught, Saïx heaved a sigh and went on with his announcement. "Xemnas has ordered me to send him on a mission some time in the next week or two. To take out the giant Heartless in Agrabah."

Zexion's jaw dropped. "Wait, what? He can't be serious."

Saïx folded his arms, shaking his head piteously. "Cruel as it sounds, Xemnas hopes that a taxing assignment will upset the creature enough that it might vacate the premises once and for all."

"That could kill him," Zexion protested. "We have no idea how it would respond."

"And that is precisely why we must find Vexen immediately."

Speechless, Zexion stepped away, pacing slowly as he collected his thoughts. Of all the places to send the boy, it had to be _Agrabah_ . Not only would the environment be particularly stressful on him — the heat, the dry air, the constantly blowing sand — but the physical demands of combat would be far too strenuous. Defeating such a large enemy would take an enormous toll on his already frail body, and that was if he even survived. To then consider how the entity living inside him might react just threw in too many variables for Zexion's tired mind to process.

Breaking the uncomfortable silence, Saïx made his way toward the door. "I must go on to deliver the briefing. If you need a moment—"

"No," Zexion stopped and took a breath, then another. "I'm fine. Let's go."

Just before opening the door, Saïx turned, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "This information is all classified. I trust you'll keep it to yourself."

Saïx didn't look at him when he made his request. There was a weighty look about him, as if he were staggering beneath the burden of a terrible secret he never wanted to keep. "Axel has been through enough. I'd rather not inject more stress into his life."

So, Zexion thought, he won't be informing Axel of Xemnas' plan for Roxas. How long does he intend to keep that up? Though it was a foolish decision, and one that Zexion certainly did not agree with, he understood the compulsion. He could stretch his morality and find it in himself to justify the omission on medical grounds. It was flimsy, but it cleared his conscience for the time being. "Of course."

The first several minutes of the briefing were a blur for Zexion. He sat quietly in his throne, tuning out the noise of his comrades' exclamations.

"What?!"

"Missing? I thought he was just doing recon!"

"Please, gentlemen," Xemnas waved them into silence before turning to Saïx. "Continue."

Saïx nodded. "The new world is vast and its terrain is diverse. We have been exploring it for months and largely finding nothing of interest. However, our last investigation revealed that it is inhabited."

Paying no heed to the surprised faces surrounding him, he turned a page in his notes. "Vexen was sent to observe and study those inhabitants. His reports abruptly stopped coming in two days ago. The Dusks who haven't been mysteriously killed have lost track of him."

Zexion sank deeper into the back of his seat, battling with whether or not he should keep listening. Dusks were easy to kill. Any animal of reasonable strength could take one out with little fuss. Perhaps there was no real mystery to their deaths at all. He kept still, trying to appear poised and professional while his composure inched toward the edge of total collapse.

"Regarding the natives," Xaldin asked. "What sort of creatures are we dealing with?"

"They are humans, divided into two warring factions," Saïx recited from his clipboard. "One side is a bit more primitive, fighting with traditional weapons. Bows, spears and the like. The other side is slightly more advanced. They use firearms and explosives."

"Sounds like a pretty one-sided war…"

Saïx flipped another page. "I spent all night plotting out a course of action for a search and rescue. All of you will be paired into teams and will operate on a rotating schedule. Two teams will be sent at a time at overlapping intervals for wider coverage. Lexaeus and Xaldin, Team Alpha, and Marluxia and Larxene, Team Beta, will begin the search. Team Delta, Luxord and Demyx, are on deck."

"With Axel incapacitated…" Luxord stroked his chin. "We are rather lacking in manpower."

"As soon as Axel can demonstrate adequate physical fitness for the task, I will add him to the rotation as part of Team Gamma, alongside Xigbar. For now, given the dangerous nature of this mission, I'd rather not send anyone alone."

He dropped the clipboard into his lap and met the eyes of his comrades, speaking with an oddly pleading tone. "Please exercise caution. These humans are violent and territorial. They will attack first and ask questions later. But it is imperative that we retrieve Vexen. It's possible that he's been captured, and he could be hurt."

Zexion tightly clasped his fingers over the arms of his throne, shivering violently enough to draw the occasional suspicious glance. He hoped they might just assume that he was cold and refrain from voicing their curiosity. The last thing he wanted was to hear their fake sentiments of pity and sympathy. He didn't want their phony comforts and empty reassurance. He wasn't a child anymore. He wouldn't go back to that life. He wouldn't live with that unbearable _noise_ again. With a grimace, he covered his ears, wishing that he could be anywhere but in this room.

"There is a very real possibility that the situation will become dire enough to order all hands on deck," Saïx added, taking brief notice of Zexion's decline. "Should that time come, I will add our reserves to the schedule and shifts will be extended. Perhaps doubled. I advise everyone to be well-rested and prepared. You could be called on at a moment's notice."

The room was quiet. Uncomfortably so for having heard such news. Where one might anticipate gasps and whispers, there was only silence. Where one might have seen his comrades shifting in their seats and fidgeting, they were all motionless, as if frozen solid. Demyx peered across the room at Zexion's throne, struggling to read his face from so far away. He hadn't moved a muscle in several minutes and his expression was completely vacant. Vexen's empty seat loomed ominously beside him, awash in the same blinding light as the rest, unhindered by the shadow of its usual occupant. Every eye in the vicinity was drawn to it, as if expecting the apparition of the scientist's very own ghost to materialize inside of it. Demyx kept his gaze averted out of respect for Vexen, figuring it was impolite to stare.

When the silence had gone on for too long, Xemnas sighed softly, making his final remarks with an eerily foreboding tone. "I wish all of you luck in bringing Vexen home. Let us hope that he is alive and well. You are dismissed."

Everyone vanished into their corridors of darkness in nearly perfect unison. When Demyx had landed outside the round room and searched for Zexion, he was nowhere to be found. He was in neither of their rooms, and the last place he could think to look was the lab. He entered cautiously, immediately finding his friend sitting at the desk with his head in his hands. He reached out to touch him as he made his slow approach, unsure what he ought to say to him.

"Hey…" He laid a hand on Zexion's back, bending down to see his face. "You okay?"

Zexion's head shot up at his touch. "What? I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because for all intents and purposes, your father is missing."

There was an unsettling pause. Demyx regretted the comment almost immediately when he saw the resulting expression on Zexion's face. A brief wince, quickly covered with a scorned frown.

"That's awfully presumptuous of you."

Demyx arched an eyebrow. "Is it?"

"I wish you wouldn't pry, Demyx," Zexion snapped, shaking him off and pouring over a mess of papers on the desk and trying to appear busy. He shuffled the documents around, not really looking at them before laying them out in a more disorderly fashion than he'd found them. Just what does he know? Vexen was likely perfectly alive and well. Perhaps he had befriended the natives and was being celebrated as an honored guest. Perhaps those slow-witted Dusks were simply lost somewhere like the imbeciles they were. Besides, Zexion had lost parents before. He survived then, and he'd survive now.

Demyx sighed, kneeling beside him and lowering his voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just thought I could make you feel better."

Zexion kept his eyes down. His body began to tremble. "I've told you, I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"Would you knock it off?"

"We're together, Zexion. You're supposed to be able to talk to me."

"I don't want to talk. I don't need to talk. I just want to get back to work."

Seeing the troubled look on Zexion's face was torturous, and all Demyx could think of was making him happy again. Maybe none of it was real. Maybe they were all performances, but the emotions were strong enough to count for him. To watch his friend fight them off so vehemently, to avoid the very real and intense pain he was feeling, was almost an insult to everything they'd worked for. This was supposed to be what having a heart was about. This was supposed to be their ultimate goal.

Still, he couldn't blame the man for his avoidance. He couldn't resent him for it. Demyx supposed he might have done the same thing. He took Zexion's hand, gently brushing the skin with his thumb. It shook vigorously in his grasp, the fingers tightening around his own. This was the loudest silence he'd ever experienced. Zexion wouldn't even look at him now.

Demyx was woefully unprepared for the helplessness of this moment. To think that he could do nothing remotely useful was more than he could bear. Maybe he'd earned his reputation for being a slacker, but this was one area where he refused to be lazy. He wouldn't sit idly by while Zexion was hurting if there was a way that he could fix it. Was that not his job now as his partner?

"Please," he whispered. "Tell me what I can do."

"You can get the hell out of here and let me work."

"Zexion—"

The apprentice finally lost his patience and raised his voice, interrupting Demyx's plea. "Just leave me alone, Demyx!"

Demyx winced, aching somewhere in his chest that he couldn't describe. Not one bruise or scrape, not one of Saix's insults, not one broken string from his sitar could compare. He hung his head in defeat, slowly trudging toward the exit. "Alright. I'll go. You know where to find me."

Zexion didn't look up. He wouldn't watch him leave. He didn't want him to leave. He'd have taken it all back in an instant. He'd have bolted out the door after him and showered him in apologies. But he could only sit there, paralyzed as he let him walk away.

Demyx wasn't like the others. His affection wasn't fake. His voice wasn't noise. He was the one man Zexion could look at with both eyes. It didn't matter that it was too much. The image of Demyx — every flawless feature, the warm glow of his aura, the calm tranquility of his mind, the heat of his passion — flooded his senses unlike any other. He could let himself be overwhelmed in that way and for once it wasn't frightening. For once it didn't hurt. He didn't have to shut down or recharge. He could get close to Demyx and know that he wouldn't disappear. He wouldn't abandon him. He wouldn't die and leave him all alone.

They warned him. Vexen and Axel said that it would hurt. They told him it would hurt more than anything, and they were right. It was likely the worst mistake he'd ever made. If only he'd listened. He was ill-equipped to weather yet another loss. The regret was so powerful that he began to feel physically ill.

_We're together… _

_I feel this connection and it's really powerful …_

_That bond is so strong that you believe nothing could ever break it…_

Demyx was special. He was everything. And like the fool he was, Zexion had just shown him the door.

* * *

_Day 234 — Well, shit_

_Apparently Vexen went missing. Everyone is really nervous about it. I can feel it. It's like the air vibrates. It's making my skin crawl just thinking about it. I can tell they're worried something will happen to me and Vexen won't be here to fix it. They stop breathing when they're near me, like someone's hands are pushing on their chests. They stare at me with these weird looks on their faces. Like they're waiting for something to happen. Like they know something that I don't._

_I haven't seen Axel in awhile. He got hurt and is stuck in bed just like I am. He said he fell off the clock tower. Zexion only says he was injured on a mission. He won't tell me what really happened. I miss him._

_The creature is really starting to get on my nerves. I hate the way it wiggles around all the time. I hate that it's still growing. Just how big is it going to get? So big that I can't walk? Or will it just explode out by that point and finally put me out of my misery? This is all so _gross_. I look gross. I feel gross. My body is just one great big horror show and I don't want to watch anymore._

_It's been really lonely here. No one else visits me but Axel and Zexion, but now Axel can't, and Zexion just does his thing and leaves without a word. This journal is the only thing I have to talk to. Maybe soon I'll go crazy enough to think it's talking back._

When he ran out of things to say, Roxas set his journal aside. He fell back onto his pillow, looking for something to count just to pass the time. He'd already counted the spots on the ceiling, the smudges on the window, the loose threads on his sheet, and the drips from the faucet in his bathroom. He considered eating. He considered sleeping. Nothing appealed to him.

The creature began to thrash. He turned on his side to placate it and it squirmed even more. Turning on his other side produced the same result. There was no position he could take that didn't seem to upset it.

"Cut it out, will you?" Roxas hissed, annoyed with its tantrum. When he'd had enough, he climbed out of bed and paced the floor. Though the movements slowed, they did not stop. He threw on his coat and left the room, strolling briskly down the hall, not sure where he might end up. It was no surprise when he soon found himself nearing the Grey Area. Saïx was standing in his usual place, staring out the window as he always did. Roxas was about to turn around and leave before the man saw him when a dark corridor opened and Larxene came through, followed by Marluxia. She seemed angry, and the moment she spotted Saïx, she unloaded on him. Her coat was torn at the right arm and she was brandishing a minor scrape on her skin. While he stood there with his signature stone face, she shouted incoherently about something that Roxas couldn't make out. He stepped closer to the doorway to listen in.

"You could have warned us, Saïx!"

"I assumed the wildlife would be the least of our concerns."

"That nasty little thing followed us _everywhere_! It wouldn't leave! Now I'm going to die of rabies!"

"I highly doubt that. It doesn't look that bad."

Another corridor opened and Xaldin entered, laughing when he caught sight of her arm. "What's this? Scratched by a kitty cat?"

Larxene fumed at him. "Who asked you, Xaldin?"

Xaldin shook his head, chuckling as Lexaeus came through the portal behind him. "Lexaeus and I encountered a bear, but here we are unscathed."

Her voice was louder with every seething response. "That bear didn't climb all over you with its dirty little jungle paws!"

"Seems to me the little creature liked you," Xaldin remarked, poorly stifling his laughter. "Perhaps you have an air about you that attracts woodland fauna."

"Gross!" Larxene recoiled in disgust. "What do I look like, some kind of fairy tale princess?!"

With a sly grin, Xaldin muttered under his breath. "No, certainly not."

"And just what the hell is that supposed—?!"

"Stop it, Larxene," Marluxia reached for her just in time to prevent her from throwing a punch. "Just calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down, Marluxia!"

Saïx stepped in and halted the conversation with a wave of his hand. "Alright, all of you go away. Argue someplace else."

Larxene shrugged out of Marluxia's grasp and stomped toward the door. "I need a shower anyway."

Before Roxas could react, she came through the doorway and nearly bumped into him. She gasped, quickly backing away and clutching her chest. She held her breath, paralyzed and staring at him with wide eyes. In just that brief glimpse, Roxas could feel exactly the same leap in his own chest that had startled her. The sensation was so vivid that he could have been fooled into believing it was his own. The emotion was potent and unmistakable, and given the nature of their encounter, somewhat perplexing.

It was gone in under a second. The atmosphere settled into calm once more and the fluttering dissipated from their chests. Though still obviously shaken, her body visibly relaxed. Her face, however, twisted with a mixture of anger and repulsion.

"Ugh! Watch where you're going, dweeb."

Roxas hastily stepped aside, clearing the way for her. "S-Sorry, Larxene. I didn't mean to—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just— aren't you supposed to be in bed or something? I thought you were _super fragile_."

"I, uh…"

She cut him off before he could come up with an excuse. "I don't care anyway. Just… keep that thing away from me."

She passed him by, hurrying away at a faster pace than before. The air was changing again. It fizzled like static, and it was getting louder every second.

"Larxene," he called to her, hoping to stop the shift in its tracks. "I'm sorry I scared you."

There it was again. The fluttering in the chest. The shudder at the nape. The sudden rush of cold on the skin. Why was she afraid of him?

She turned, laughing almost maniacally. "Wha— _scared_ me? Oh _please_!" she scoffed. "I'm just trying to get out of here before I throw up!" She turned on her heel and practically ran in the other direction. "Later, twerp."

Roxas, completely baffled, stared down the empty hall long after she'd disappeared. He'd always thought she was just a hothead, full of anger and not much else. What, then, was all that?

"Roxas."

He jumped at the sudden sound of a voice behind his back. He recognized it immediately and turned to face Saïx with his shoulders slumped. "I know, I know," he sighed. "I should be in bed."

Saïx stood with his arms folded, studying him in silence. Roxas couldn't read his face — it was blank as it always was. But it was a refreshing sight. For once, the man wasn't glaring at him.

"On the contrary," he replied with no change to his flat tone. "A walk would likely do you some good."

Roxas couldn't believe what he'd heard. Saïx was letting him out of his prison at last? Why now? What had changed? Before he had the chance to ask any of his questions, the man had taken off down the hall and vanished around the corner. Left alone again, Roxas meandered into the Grey Area, gazing at his reflection in the tall window. _Gross_. His mirror image was such an offensive sight that he simultaneously couldn't stand to look at it and couldn't take his eyes off of it. He was about to turn away and go back to bed when something caught his eye. There were other people standing beside him. A tall man. A young girl. A cheerful-looking boy. Many others. Not one of them was familiar. He whipped around to see who was there, only to find an empty room behind him. When he turned back to the window, they were gone, and, just like every day and every night, Roxas was completely alone.


	22. Wherever You Go

Author's Note: Trigger warning for discussion of miscarriage and infertility.

* * *

It was as if every time she wanted to be alone, that damn door knocked. Larxene had been standing in front of the mirror, running a soft brush through her hair when the irritating sound startled her. She ignored it at first, hoping whoever it was might just take the hint and go away. She returned her attention to her hair, gently dragging the comb between the blonde locks. She was convinced she'd managed to rid herself of the intruder when the knock returned, more insistent than before. She sighed, laying the brush on the vanity and relenting.

"Fine, come in."

She should have guessed who it was on the other side of the threshold. Only Marluxia would knock twice. She wrinkled her nose, visibly annoyed by his presence. "What do you want?"

Marluxia stepped cautiously into the room. "I came to see you."

"Well, I'm not in the mood," she snapped, pointing to one of her temples. "Got a headache."

"I didn't come for that."

"Then why are you bothering me?"

"I came to talk."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm _so_ flattered," she snorted, genuinely curious about where he planned to go with this. "More than just a booty call for once."

"So you'll talk to me?"

"Whatever," she reluctantly agreed, remaining focused on the mirror. "Not like I have anything better to do."

Marluxia slowly approached the bed and sank into the mattress, hesitating. The two of them had spent most of the day searching for Vexen together, and Larxene had said almost nothing during the entire mission. In fact, she had been unusually distant for the past few days, ever since their first shift in the search. He had come to see what was bothering her, but suddenly lacked the nerve to ask. It baffled him. Marluxia had known Larxene for so long, there should have been no reason he'd be feeling nervous to talk to her now. Nervous? Impossible. Nobodies cannot feel nervous.

"Saïx is sending me on a mission with Roxas some time in the next week."

Larxene gagged mockingly. "Yuck. Alone?"

"No. There will be five of us with him."

The briefing from Saïx was particularly unusual. Where normally the man delivered his instructions in a dull, bored monotone, now his voice seemed to shake with obvious apprehension and dread. His tension was palpable. He fidgeted and his attention wavered, his eyes darting around as they spoke. He relayed the orders almost reluctantly, no longer emitting the usual disinterest that had become so characteristic for Xemnas' right hand. Marluxia wondered to himself if the man was ill.

"Well, don't catch his _disease_," Larxene sneered, strolling into the bathroom and rubbing a damp cloth on her face.

"It's not contagious, Larxene. There's nothing to worry about."

"Whatever," she scoffed. "So what's the mission, then? I thought he was confined to bed. I was finally feeling like I could go into the Grey Area again, knowing I wouldn't have to look at him."

"We are going to Agrabah to take out that giant Heartless."

She paused slightly and cocked her head as if to question him, but instead only shrugged. "Big job for small fry. If we're lucky, it'll just eat him."

Marluxia turned to her, not with surprise, but with a very different reaction. Was it pity? Sympathy? He couldn't place it. It was so unfamiliar now. "Why the hostility, Larxene?"

She whirled around, seething. "Are you feeling _sorry_ for him? Don't get all sentimental _now._"

"I'm not," Marluxia quickly softened. "I'm only curious."

"Curious," Larxene spat, turning her back on him. "Because that's always gone over so well for you."

The words stung, but Marluxia couldn't claim that he didn't deserve them. His curiosity had brought him to the Organization. He had believed back then that they were motivated by good intentions — a collection of men who had lost their hearts and desperately wanted them back. He could relate. He understood. They all just wanted back what was rightfully theirs. Yet, here they were, years later and with no retribution in sight.

If Marluxia had any good sense at all, he'd have left the room at that moment, but for some reason he felt compelled to press Larxene further. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted her to open up to him and share what was on her mind. He knew what it was, but he wanted — _needed _her to say it. He thought for a moment, planning a conversational route that would lead him to the answer.

"What do you make of all this?"

Larxene had returned to fiddling with her hair, combing through it with her fingers and tying it up. "What? You mean _him_? I think it's gross."

"It's fascinating…" His eyes wandered listlessly to the ceiling. "I didn't think he'd survive this long."

"Ugh. I don't care. I can't stand looking at him."

"You don't think it's the least bit interesting?"

"_No_, I don't. I think it's disgusting," the contempt in her voice elevated with every word. "And quite frankly, I'm the only one qualified to really have an opinion on it."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I'm a _girl_, Marluxia!"

He backed off, hoping he hadn't taken it too far. Marluxia knew he was treading into dangerous territory, but he refused to shy away from it for one more second. "I suppose you have a point. You have a unique insight that none of us males could ever boast."

"You're damn right I do, and this is _unnatural_. It's sick and it's wrong."

It was at these words that Marluxia rose to his feet, unbeknownst to Larxene. The memories were persistent, demanding a place at the forefront of their minds. They were lying in the sand. Where had their weapons gone? How long had they been unconscious? What was the cause of this pain in their chests? Marluxia opened his eyes to see a tall, hooded figure standing over them. He told them they'd lost their hearts. He promised to help get them back. How could they refuse?

"It's not an experiment and it's not something you just play around with," she continued with exasperation. "It's serious. The consequences are permanent, no matter what the outcome might be."

Before he realized what he was doing, Marluxia was slowly approaching her. His steps were soft, cautious, wary. "You've put a lot of thought into this…"

"Of course I have! It's something _I _actually _have_ to think about!"

He was inching ever closer to her. She noticed, but didn't protest. "Do you?"

She bent down to splash water on her face. Her voice was beginning to shake as she teetered on the brink of collapse. She kept her head down, forcibly averting her gaze from the reflection of the man closing in on her. "Knock it off, Marluxia. You wouldn't understand."

"I would if you'd explain it to me."

"Just stop it."

He finally reached her, laying his hands on her shoulders. Her head shot up with a gasp and her spine straightened. She looked into the eyes of his mirror image, her mouth hanging open, speechless. She couldn't read his expression. She recognized it, but couldn't name it. Why was he looking at her like that?

"Elrena," he whispered. "It wasn't your fault."

Her petite form began to tremble. "Damn it, don't do this now."

"Then when? Years and years have passed and it still troubles you."

"Nothing troubles me!" She threw up her hands and forced an unstable smile. "I have no heart! I'm living the good life."

"No you're not. I know you better than that."

She slammed her palms on the counter, watching the water swirling down the drain. It was a fitting image — helplessly spinning in a cyclone, gradually sinking toward the abyss. It toyed with her. Any second she would drown. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry for help, but words had failed her. Her stomach was clenching just like it did before. The pain was fresh in her memory. Marluxia's voice was as soft as it was back then. Sweet enough to break her. Strong enough to catch the shards before they fell.

"It's not hopeless, Elrena. You don't have to give up."

Her fingers curled into her palms, tightly closing into fists. "I'm warning you, Lauriam."

"We can try it again. And again, and again. A thousand more times if we have to."

She jolted out of his grasp, shooting him a bitter scowl. "You heard them! '_Impossible._' It's not gonna happen, Marluxia!" She darted past him out of the bathroom and back to the vanity. Her reflection brought her no more comfort here than it did in there. She hated looking at herself. The sight of her pitifully thin frame filled her with anger. Regret. _Emptiness. _"Besides, it's not even fun anymore."

He followed her. Every move he made was deliberate and calculated. She had erected a wall specifically to keep him at a distance, and knocking it down was a delicate process. "There's no guarantee it won't work."

"Just leave me alone."

"Roxas reminds you, doesn't he? That's why you won't come to the Grey Area. That's why you avoid him."  
"Stop bringing him up!"

"It's why you can't look at him, it's why you say you hate—"

"That's enough, Lauriam!"

"Elrena… if it still hurts, that's okay. But don't shut me out. Let me help."

"I don't want your help."

He reached for her and she flinched, recoiling from his touch. There was a sharp twinge deep inside him, but the pain was all for her. "You don't have to be alone."

"Where is all this coming from, anyway? Since when do you show me all this _care_ and _affection_? It's not like you."

"It's not like Marluxia. Have you forgotten Lauriam?"

"No, I haven't. Lauriam forgot me."

"Elrena…"

"You gonna tell me he's in there now? That he's been waiting for me all this time? That it was all just because Marluxia has no heart?" She laughed. She laughed at his sudden melancholic demeanor. She laughed at the absurdity of it all. She laughed to hide how much it hurt.

Marluxia was unfazed by her deflection. "No. That would just be making excuses. I won't do that to you again."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to talk to me. I want to fix this. _Lauriam _wants to fix this."

The memories finally swallowed her up. She lost herself in them. She was in that wretched desert again, taking out Heartless just like any other day. Marluxia was needed elsewhere on a mission deemed _too dangerous _for a fragile little girl like her, so she'd been sent to Agrabah to assist that mute, blue-haired freak with the X on his face. That was all they ever did — stick her with some _strong man _instead of ever sending her anywhere alone, as if she couldn't take care of herself. _These assholes think I'm weak. I'll show them._

It was hot. She didn't feel well. She was in a rotten mood. Saïx was so quiet and blank that it irritated her to no end. She taunted him, she ridiculed him, and she argued with him, but he didn't respond. He only completed his work in silence, paying her no mind. _What a weirdo._

She had just laid the final blow on a troublesome Heartless that kept healing itself if one wasn't quick enough to defeat it. She didn't see where her mission partner had gone, but could hear him cutting through some other collection of creatures off in the distance with his giant claymore. The sound of his roaring didn't match his delicate, poised disposition, and his weapon appeared to be so heavy that he had to carry it with an awkward underhand grip, like a dagger. _That's a bit much. Maybe he's compensating for something._

When the last monster had vanished in a smoky wisp, it struck her without warning. The pain was sharp. It barreled through her abdomen with unrelenting force, both familiar and foreign to her. Her vision darkened and she collapsed to her knees. The clenching agony didn't stop. She could barely breathe.

She heard Saïx's footsteps rushing her way, and soon he was kneeling before her. "_Larxene? What's wrong?"_

She didn't have a chance to answer. She kept her head down, staring at his knees and catching her breath. That was when she saw it — the blood spreading on the sand beneath her. It seemed to pour from her by the liter, and Saïx scooted back with a gasp. "_You're bleeding. Where are you hit?"_

Every time she tried to speak, it crushed her again. A whimper, a grunt, a moan — these were all she could utter. _What the hell is he waiting for?!_ She lifted her eyes to her companion, the poor kid who sat frozen, staring at her in disbelief with clear and unmistakable terror on his face.

"_Take me back…! Now!"_

He was too small at the time to lift her. He was dragging her to the portal when she finally passed out. When she came to, she was lying on a table in Vexen's research lab. The first face she saw was Marluxia's. He smiled at her, then his face grew blurry. Everything went dark again.

"_Elrena, can you hear me?"_

"_Wh-where are you?"_

"_I'm here," _she felt his hand squeeze hers. "_It's okay. I've got you."_

She was freezing. She shivered under the thin sheet that was laid over her. Her clothes had been removed. There was a needle in her arm. "_What's happening…?"_

"_It'll be okay, Elrena. Just hold on."_

The pain hadn't ceased. It clobbered her in waves, rising to excruciating peaks before dissipating. It was enough to make her dizzy and motion sick. "_Lauriam… it hurts… what's going on?"_

"_I don't know. Stay with me. You're going to be alright."_

"_Do you think it's…"_

"_Don't think about that. Just relax."_

"_Oh god… what if—"_

"_Shh," _Marluxia interrupted her, desperate to quell her panic. "_Don't worry."_

Tears sprang to her eyes. Though their presence shocked her, Marluxia didn't seem surprised in the least. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, sweeping them away. She tried to speak, but her throat was so tight she could only croak. "_Lauriam, if I've lost—"_

"_Stop, Elrena, you're going to make it worse. Just take a deep breath."_

"_There was blood! It's not supposed to—"  
_His fingers laced through her hair. Not once did his voice rise above a whisper. "_Breathe, Elrena. You're going to be fine."_

"_I'm not worried about _me_!"_

Someone had entered the room and cleared his throat to announce his presence. His shape was fuzzy and unfocused, but his long, platinum-blond hair was easily recognizable.

"_Vexen," _Marluxia stood to address the scientist. "_Have you figured out what's wrong with her?"_

There was a pause. "_I have."_

Another pause. Vexen was hesitating. Larxene couldn't stand the delay. "_Well? Spit it out! Tell me!"_

Vexen only dropped his head and was silent. There was a deafening thud in Larxene's chest. She shuddered at the chill of all the color draining from her face. Her breaths halted altogether, catching in her throat and choking her. "_No…"_

"_Larxene…" _Vexen sighed. "_I'm so sorry. We weren't able to—"_

"_No! No, it's not true!" _It couldn't be true. It had to be a mistake. There was something he'd missed. Something he misread. Miscalculated. She was sure of it.

Vexen only shook his head with a solemn expression. "_I'm sorry, Larxene. There was nothing we could do…"_

She had long since tuned him out. Vexen was explaining what went wrong. Larxene wasn't listening. She stared at the ceiling. Numb. Blank. In this moment she wanted so badly to cry, but now she found that she couldn't. She could only lay there, wondering how much this was supposed to hurt. How agonizing would this be if she'd had a heart? She searched inward for a memory of pain that might have fit this situation, but found none. This experience was new and unique. The emptiness she felt was genuine. Even now, so many years later, Larxene could vividly remember the sweltering heat of the desert and the frigid cold of the lab. She could still feel the painful clenching in her stomach and the suffocating lump in her throat. She could still hear Marluxia's voice calling out to her.

"_Elrena… Come back to me, Elrena… Come back to the present…"_

He was right in front of her, intimately close, right where he was supposed to be. He had her face in his hands and his eyes locked on hers. He was motionless and steady, an anchor to keep her from floating adrift. She was wrong. Lauriam had kept his promise. He would always be there to yank her out of her flashbacks and spirals. Even after all this time, he hadn't failed her yet. He was here in his place, gentle as he always was. He showed her only tenderness and patience while he waited for her to return to him. He hadn't forgotten her.

She clutched her abdomen. The hollowness had followed her everywhere she went. The pain shot through her when she least expected it. She had lost so much more than her heart. She had lost all hope. She had lost her spirit. She couldn't fathom how fate could be so cruel as to not only take away her child, but to also rob her of her ability to grieve for it.

_What am I doing? Crying?!_

She hadn't realized it until she had her face buried in Marluxia's coat. His arms enfolded her, protective in their strength, comforting in their warmth. She was safe there, and she collapsed with the security of knowing he'd catch her before she hit the ground.

"It's not fair… It's not fair…"

"I know."

All these years, and _this _was the moment when it finally came crashing down on her. The passage of time did not dull the sting even a little. It was just as real now as it had felt back then. But it was different. There was a new clarity, an intensity that hadn't been present before. At last, she could _feel_ the agony of her loss. She could _mourn_ that loss now, for the first time since that day. She could _remember _that crushing emptiness. She drew from those images, creating not a performance or a display, but a true, visceral representation of the pain she'd felt then. She lived in that memory, experiencing the event all over again, but now she could fully immerse herself in real, excruciating despair. For once, she could _hurt_, and to her surprise, the catharsis of finally shedding these tears felt _good_.

"Every time I look at Roxas, I remember…" She murmured into the damp leather. "I wonder what could have been… It's not fair, Lauriam…"  
Marluxia had waited many years for this moment, wondering if it would ever happen at all. There was something very natural and familiar about the steps they took now, the parts they played in this scene unfolding between them. Every action was pure and authentic. It was so _easy _to take her into his arms and hold her like this. It was almost instinctive, the desire to be close to her now. Listening to her weeping, feeling her tiny body shaking against him, sensing the urgency in her grasp as she clung to his coat — now, the experience carried warmth. Humanity. Now, it felt _right_.

The air in the room was heavy and smothering. Her anguish was so palpable that Marluxia could feel it alongside her. They endured it together, as if they'd never forgotten how. The pain was fierce. Savage. _Real_. The how and the why were completely irrelevant. All that mattered was the two of them. Their connection, their love, their loss. Tonight, they weathered it all as one.

"You're right," he whispered, his fingers settling at her nape. "It's not fair. It shouldn't even be possible for him, Nobody or not."

"I can't stand the sight of him," she growled. "That hideous little brat, showing me that image _every single day._ He doesn't even have what it takes!"

The emotions — or whatever they were — continued their assault. Sadness and regret transformed into anger and bitterness. The sorrow had been cold and biting, but her rage now was scalding hot.

Marluxia winced at the sudden shift in her tone. "He didn't ask for this, Elrena."

"So it can happen for him by accident, but…" her sentence trailed off. She couldn't bring herself to say the words. They lingered on her tongue, ready to be delivered but she swallowed them back, as if refusing to speak them aloud prevented them from being true. "God, it's not fair…!"

"I know. I know it's not fair. And I'm so sorry."

The anger was dissipating, making way for the nauseating grip of remorse. It poured over her, drenching her in those old intrusive thoughts she'd hoped to have been rid of. All of those nagging questions, the troublesome worries, the menacing taunts from which she could not escape. They rained their punishment on her, lashing at her skin like whips. The pangs of guilt were sharp, burrowing into her chest at a torturously slow pace. The shame crawled over her flesh, nipping at her like hungry rats.

"If I had known… I never would've…"

Her body began to tremble, her knees threatening to buckle and drop her to the floor. Marluxia quickly intervened, cupping her chin and meeting her eyes with his own. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Didn't I? I _chose_ this."

"You didn't choose to lose your heart."

"I joined you… you told me to stay back but I ran in after you," she sobbed, her composure faltering. "I wanted to be with you. I would have followed you wherever you went."

"Then the one to carry the blame is me."

There was no comfort in those words. There was no sense assigning blame to anyone for what had happened. Doing so didn't make it hurt any less. She dropped her head, blinking as the tears burned in her eyes again. "It doesn't matter anymore… It's over… It's gone now and I won't ever get it back…"

The sound of defeat in her voice weighed heavily on him. He longed to lift her spirits, to encourage her to keep going, but he knew not what to say to put the fight back in her. "That's not true. There's still a chance. There always was."

He questioned his decision to make such promises. Larxene had been right — impossible, just as Vexen said. It was impossible to create life if one lacked the heart with which to conceive and nurture it. He regretted that, in his zeal to console her, he may have been instilling a false sense of hope in her. "Elrena, if I could take it back…"

"Well you can't, so don't bother telling me what you'd do. I'd rather live with the mystery."

He paused. The expression on her face said it all. She'd had enough. She was spent. Drained. Too tired to fight any longer. With an understanding nod, he let the matter drop at last. "Alright. I won't."

He took her hand, guiding her to the bed where they would sit together. She leaned into his embrace, sighing as the knots of tension inside her unraveled. Pressing against his chest, she listened through its walls and relaxed into the steady rhythm of his breath. She was soothed by the gentle hum of his voice. His hand softly caressed her, sliding up and down her back in an almost hypnotic motion. Again, she basked in the sensations of security and trust for him. The others didn't understand. To them, she was course and mean and spiteful, and she intended to keep it that way. But after everything and through it all, Marluxia was always there, a stalwart source of comfort when she needed it most. It was then that she finally felt brave enough to let down her guard, and she settled herself in his arms, vulnerable, but safe.

"Promise me something…"

A stray lock of hair had fallen into her face and he swept it away with a warm smile. "Anything."

She took a slow breath. "Keep him safe… Whatever is in there deserves a chance… The chance ours didn't get… Please, protect him…"

He reached for her hand, taking it delicately into his own. He regretted that he hadn't removed his gloves, longing to touch her again. He instead brought it to his mouth and tenderly pressed his lips onto her knuckles. He lingered there, reluctant to pull away. Her skin was just as soft and warm as it had always been. When he finally parted with her, he almost couldn't stop himself from kissing her again and again. This wasn't the time for that. He restrained himself, instead closing in until their foreheads met and he could feel her breath on his face.

"You have my word, Elrena."

She crawled beneath the sheets, managing a weak smile as he bent to kiss her forehead. In her exhaustion, her eyes closed immediately and she could feel herself drifting off. All was still for a few moments, granting her some semblance of peace for now. Soon, the mattress creaked as a weight was lifted from it. He was leaving. Something like panic rose in her chest and she reached for him, tightly clasping his fingers. "Don't go…"

He said nothing, only nodding with a look on his face that she hadn't seen in a long time. His eyes gleamed with affection for her. There was a glow in his cheeks, a smile on his lips — his features hadn't lost an ounce of their charm. All of his love and devotion had transcended the loss of his heart, and for the first time, she believed it. She shared it.

She never let go of his hand, even as he was undressing, preparing to join her. When he had dropped the last garment to the floor, he turned out the light and climbed into bed beside her. All evening, through the entirety of their conversation, her body shook with emotion. It trembled with her fury and heaved with her sobs. Her muscles were tense, her entire frame on edge, alert. Now, however, she was still and relaxed as she curled up to him. The atmosphere was calm and light. He could feel her breaths slow as she surrendered to sleep.

Even in the dark, he couldn't help but admire her in all her perfection. She was right when she accused him of forgetting her. He'd forgotten her beauty, her passion. He'd forgotten the _Elrena_ hiding beneath Larxene. But he remembered her now. He remembered what it felt like to have his heart flutter in his chest when he saw her. He remembered the longing ache during their separation. He remembered how he loved her. Fond memories made for pleasant dreams, and he rested comfortably knowing that in the morning, her face would be the first thing he'd see.

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter means the world to me. I think it is my favorite piece in all of my stories. I hope that it moves you just as it moves me.


	23. The Weak and the Strong

"Come in."

The door opened and when Axel turned to see who it was, he was surprised to find Saïx standing in the doorway. "Isa! You knocked!"

Saïx entered the room, shooting Axel an amused glance as the door closed behind him. "You might have been asleep."

Axel tried to prop himself up on his good elbow, wincing at the gradually returning aches and pains. Saïx approached the bed with a look of concern, quickly laying a hand on his chest. "Don't get up. You'll hurt yourself."

Axel obediently laid back down, rubbing his sore ribs. The bruises hadn't cleared up much at all; Zexion had said it could be weeks before they began to fade. Thankfully, the swelling had improved, allowing him some limited mobility. Still, he spent most of his days confined to bed and bored out of his mind. He was beginning to understand just how Roxas felt, being stuck in his room alone all the time. Only Saïx had ever come to visit him since the incident, and Axel could tell it was mostly out of guilt anyway.

"So, how goes the search for Vexen?"

Saïx sat beside him on the mattress, sighing and shaking his head. "Nary a trace. He simply vanished."

Axel closed his eyes, contemplating. It had been four days. If they didn't get Vexen back soon, and something happened to Roxas… he shuddered to even complete the thought in his head. "Let me help. I'm better than any of those idiots at tracking down people who are lost."

"Absolutely not," Saïx snapped. "You're in no condition to take on such a dangerous mission."

Axel huffed and crossed his arms, unintentionally digging into his broken ribcage. He hissed, carefully settling them back at his sides with a grimace. He supposed Saïx was probably right. The way he was now, he'd be defenseless on an unfamiliar world with unknown hazards. He had no choice but to stay in bed, hoping the rest would make his injuries heal more quickly.

Saïx cringed at the sight of Axel's struggle. He'd visited the man several times over the past few days, hoping that he'd see a dramatic improvement in his condition each time, only to be somewhat disheartened to find that such injuries took longer than mere hours to mend. "Are you recovering well?"

Axel shifted slightly. "I think so. I managed to take a shower by myself today. It only took forty five minutes…"

Saïx smirked. "I see. So we will have you to thank when we run out of hot water. Shall I start charging you?"

"Who said it was a hot shower?" Axel let out a light chuckle before groaning and clutching his side, lamenting that laughter was still painful. Upon noticing that Saïx, barely concealing the worry in his eyes, had turned away and avoided looking at him, he reached out and clasped his hand tightly. "Hey… I'm okay. Don't worry."

Saïx did not turn around. "I could have killed you. I lost control and I—"

"Isa," Axel interrupted him with a stern but gentle tone. "I'm fine. I'll heal, just like I always do."

Saïx dropped his head, staring at the tile, internally battling with the uprising emotions that tormented him so often of late. Every day it seemed they got stronger and more difficult to bury away, especially since the incident which left Axel so badly injured. He'd spent night after night just pacing the floor, trying to convince himself that they weren't real. He'd chide himself for being tempted and gullible, failing to recognize the tricks of his memories and allowing himself to drown in the illusion of guilt. Yet, the feelings would not subside. They would only grow until they smothered him, crushing the breath from his lungs, powerful enough to hurt him, but not enough to kill him.

It was that very weakness that had been his downfall. _Emotion _was what set off the berserk. The fear that Xemnas had invoked in him brought about his altered state and led to the attack on Axel. It was perfectly calculated — designed to break him by placing someone he wouldn't admit he still cared about in harm's way. Xemnas knew just where to aim, targeting Saïx's greatest vulnerabilities and striking without warning. Just to remind him of how weak he really was.

In his distraction, Saïx hadn't noticed that Axel had somehow lifted himself upright, and he was startled by the delicate touch of the man's fingers on his chin, beckoning him to meet his eyes. He had no sooner turned to face him than his lips pressed into his own. He should have been surprised, but he wasn't. Kissing Axel felt so natural, even after so many years, that he easily sank into nostalgia, as if no time had passed and no hearts were lost or broken. He closed his eyes, quieting his thoughts and forcing himself to experience the moment by feeling alone. He focused on the softness of Axel's lips, the heat of his breath, the scent that was so uniquely his. He remembered this. He remembered these things quite clearly from when they were human. Saïx wondered to himself when Axel had regained such qualities, or if perhaps he'd never lost them in the first place.

The zipper of his coat was being opened, followed by a warm hand caressing his bare chest. He was soon freed from his coat and gloves, listening to the sound of heavy breaths in his ear as soft lips were planted on his skin. The sensations were positively electrifying, and he soon felt a knot of desire tightening inside him. His eyes sprang open and he quickly jolted to his senses.

"Lea, wait," he reluctantly nudged Axel off of him. "Your injuries… I don't want to hurt you."

Axel quelled his worries with a fiery smolder. "You won't hurt me."

He leaned back onto his pillow and guided Saïx down beside him, tangling his fingers in his silky blue locks. He supposed he was probably in no condition for _this _either, but to see Saïx letting his guard down — seeing him become _Isa _again — was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. For once, those eyes that had only reflected the cold contempt the man carried around with him for ten years now gleamed with what Axel could only describe as affection. Desire. Passion. He couldn't stop himself drawing him close and taking his lips into another kiss. He smelled like Isa, tasted like Isa, and he touched him just like Isa used to. It was almost too good to be true.

The heat radiating from Saïx's every touch was such that Axel thought his nerves were on fire. His knuckles lightly dragging down his cheek as he leaned into the kiss, the brush of his mouth as he trailed a series of gentle nips along his neck, the desperate grasp of his hand cupping his jaw, the playful tug of his teeth at his throat — Axel could scarcely recall a rendezvous of theirs _ever _feeling so good, and they hadn't even made it below the belt yet. When he pulled away to look into Saïx's eyes, weakening instantly at his amorous gaze, he reached for him, longing to return the favor, but the man only took his hands and blotted chaste kisses on the insides of his wrists.

"Just relax. I'll take care of you."

Saïx was quite careful in stripping Axel of his unforgiving uniform and taking hold of him at last. The way he approached him now, the way he touched him, the way he kissed him, was unusually apprehensive. Every action was slow and meticulous. His grip was firm as always, but at the same time, too light, as if to tease him rather than to pleasure him. His bites were delicate, just grazing his teeth along his skin. If Axel didn't know any better, he'd say the man was _nervous._

Saïx was watching him intently — monitoring him, in a way — with a peculiar intensity in his eyes. He wasn't taking the lead. It was so unlike him to follow. Axel almost wanted to stop him, to check in, if only to sate his own curiosity, but the telltale burn of an impending climax began to spread inside him, rendering him speechless.

Axel quivered, perfectly enfolded inside Saïx's grasp, his skilled fingers gliding along his skin with unbearable friction. Saïx never broke eye contact for an instant as he brought Axel to the edge. His expression had changed, and for the moment, the trepidation was gone, replaced with something like an intense hunger. The closer Axel came to the brink, the harder Saïx handled him. His fingers closed tightly around him, accelerating with every stroke. Axel bit his lip and clenched the sheets in his fists as an overwhelming tidal wave of pleasure threatened to wash over him. He reached for Saïx's wrist, barely able to gasp his name as he finally reached the point of no return.

"Isa, I'm—!"

"I know."

Axel could no longer speak. The pleasure climbed to a staggering peak and there was an enormous crash inside him. His hips bucked against Saïx's hand as a surge of euphoria shot through his pelvis, culminating in a deep throbbing pressure that quickly dissolved into pure ecstasy. He emitted a deep, raspy moan as the tension in his core finally released, practically blinded by the force of such an astonishing finish. The experience was almost startling in how powerful it was. Sexual gratification as a Nobody had always been slightly dull compared to when he was human, and on some days the numbness was so frustrating that the activity hardly seemed worth the effort. No matter how many Organization members he cycled through, not one of them could truly satisfy him. Except for Saïx. It was always better with Saïx, and that fact had never been more true than it was in this moment.

Aftershocks shook his body as Saïx wrung him dry, prolonging the sensations and drawing a series of shuddering sighs from his lips. Warmth bloomed over the skin of his abdomen as the pleasure wound down and he was able to slowly catch his breath. This was no ordinary climax. The heightened sense of physical pleasure could be written off, but the memories that flashed behind his eyes, the emotions echoing inside the space where his heart used to be could not be ignored. There was a strong connection that hadn't been there previously. There was a new, deep intimacy to this moment that Axel simply couldn't describe. But whatever it was, it was better than the climax itself. Better than any he'd ever had before.

Though he maintained his composed demeanor, internally, Saïx was beside himself. To see Axel reach such a tremendous finish, writhing in his grasp and mouthing his name, was more than he could bear. Axel was irresistible. Saïx needed him. He needed to feel him, to be close to him. He bent down to Axel's mouth again, kissing him deeply. The sensations were so intense, so potent, the desire so _real _that he could hardly stand them. The ache in his groin was excruciating. The knot in his core tightened further, spreading an intoxicating clench throughout his body. There was a desperate heat demanding to be addressed, a pressure begging to be relieved. He broke the kiss and tracked his lips to Axel's ear, nibbling delicately at its lobe.

"Lea," he whispered urgently. "I need to be inside you."

Still breathless, Axel chuckled with an eyebrow raised. "Damn, Isa. What did I do to deserve all this pampering?"

"You drive me crazy. Let me have you."

His tone was so serious it took Axel by surprise. Saïx was desperate, more so than he had ever been. Axel recognized the look in his eyes immediately — the man was holding back, restraining himself from whatever depraved acts of hedonism he so _wanted _to perform. His need was so great that he could hardly control himself. Axel shot him an alluring stare, eager to return the favor and looking forward to the good time he was about to have. "Well then, knock yourself out."

Saïx wasted not a second. He pressed his lips to Axel's forehead before rolling off the bed to undress. Axel watched with fascination as he unclasped the button and lowered the zipper of his pants, letting them fall unceremoniously to the floor. For all the times he and Saïx had ever been together, all the times the man had proudly stood at attention for him, it was this one which awakened a very peculiar excitement in Axel. Just the sight of Saïx looking so enthusiastically ready as he reached into the drawer of the nightstand made him feel oddly giddy. He could barely stop himself giggling with the anticipation.

"Something you find amusing?" Saïx asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Axel grinned. "You're so hard for me."

Saïx rolled his eyes. "This wouldn't work very well if I wasn't."

"You're _so horny _right now."

"And you talk too much," he replied with no change to his icy tone. "Now, if you'd like me to stay that way, you'll be quiet."

Far be it from Axel to obey such an order, but he was so distracted by the man's stunning figure standing so close to him that for the moment his throat was too dry to taunt him any further. It was the same as it ever was — toned, not too lean, not too bulky. His skin was clear as usual. His features were still as flawless as they had always been. And yet, he looked quite different, and again, Axel couldn't understand just how. He never did figure it out. His silence was predictably short-lived, and he spoke up again with incredulity when he caught a glimpse of Saïx's hands gliding sensually along himself, his skin glistening with a slippery substance which Axel hadn't seen in years. "Oh wow, you're actually going to use that?"

"I told you, I don't want to hurt you."

Axel snorted, shaking his head. "Now you're just spoiling me."

"Hmph," Saïx scoffed. "You're injured. I'm taking pity on you."

The man took so long preparing himself that Axel began to think that he was stalling. His suspicions were all but confirmed when he saw the look on Saïx's face as he climbed over him, so afraid to jostle the mattress that he barely touched him. The nerves had reappeared in full force, clearly etched into his brow. His movements were cautious and overly considerate, like it was their first time together. He was almost completely weightless in settling himself into place, putting a fair distance between their bodies. Although Axel made it easy for him, letting his body hang limply in his grasp, the man was unnaturally timid in easing his thighs apart and shifting his hips into position. Even his kisses were meek and unsure. His eyes never left Axel's, as if he were watching, waiting for a sign that he'd mistepped or overestimated. Axel gave him no such signal, returning his anxious gaze with one of lust and suspense.

It seemed the surprises would never cease. A hand slipped between his legs, and Axel soon felt fingers inside him, working him open. He gasped, taken aback by the unexpected gesture and quickly capitulating to his touch. "Aw, how sweet of you," he teased, seductively sliding his own fingers down the man's torso and reveling at the involuntary spasms of every muscle he encountered along the way.

"This is more for me than it is for you."

Axel smirked at the subtle boast. "If you say so."

"Hush now."

Once again, Axel was convinced that Saïx was trying to buy some time. As pleasurable as the foreplay was, it was such a rarity that Axel had to triple-check to ensure he was still with the same man. Saïx suspended himself at arm's length, hovering rigidly over him even as Axel reached out to kiss him some more. Every action was laced with anxiety and reservation, so much so that Axel could feel the tension wafting off of him and filling the room. Even as he gripped him tightly, offering him just a fraction of the fondling he'd received, the man only clenched his jaw and averted his eyes, as if he were afraid to enjoy himself.

"Isa, are you okay?" he confronted him, genuinely concerned for his friend's well-being.

In response, Saïx threw up a wall, returning with his typical expressionless stare and shielding himself from further intrusions into his thoughts. "I'm fine."

Axel arched an eyebrow. "I'm not convinced."

"Then allow me to prove myself."

Just as slowly as they went in, the fingers left him, and Axel could soon feel Saïx, in all his impatience and anticipation, advancing on him with a light nudge of his hips. He dipped into the crook of Axel's neck, his warm breath erecting goosebumps as it blew by. "Are you ready?"

"Are you?"

Saïx said nothing. Taking his cue, he pressed into him, gently and with incredible restraint. The astonishing heat, the firm tension of Axel wrapped around him made his vision blur. He could feel himself pulsing inside the tightness of his body, already struggling to rein in his animalistic desire as he watched Axel accept his imposing girth with furrowed brow and gritted teeth. Just as he expected — feared, even — it was already too much. Even the light stroke of Axel's fingers was enough to send a chill coursing through him. Saïx knew he was in trouble the moment he'd reached inside of him, testing the waters and mentally preparing himself for a pleasure so fierce that it took his breath away. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready for such enormous intensity. He wasn't ready for the yearning in Axel's eyes or the warmth of his embrace. He wasn't ready for the overwhelming strain of holding himself back in the midst of such powerful sensations.

It wasn't entirely painless. Axel could admit to himself that the motions shook his broken bones hard enough to make his eyes water. Even so, he didn't want Saïx to stop. The pleasure far outshined the pain, and he was eager to see more of this new anxious Saïx that had replaced the old contemptuous one. As the minutes flew by, his pace remained shockingly conservative, almost leisurely. Where he used to violently plunge himself into Axel with no mercy, he instead eased into him carefully, as if seeking approval for every centimeter he penetrated. In lieu of his usual forceful grasps of Axel's hips and legs, firm enough to bruise him with their enthusiasm, he let his hands glide softly over his skin with the lightest brush of his fingertips. It was the most tender lovemaking Axel had ever received from him, and before he could suppress it, another giggle escaped him, incredulous at the man's uncharacteristic behavior.

Saïx glared at him. "_Now _what?"

"Isa, you're making _me _nervous," Axel pleaded insistently. "I've done this before, you know. I can take a little rough handling."

"Haven't I broken enough of you?"

Axel sighed. "You've gotta let that go, man."

Saïx raised himself off of him, threatening to end the encounter then and there. "If you don't like it, I can stop."

"Oh no, don't stop…"

Axel reached around the small of Saïx's back, beckoning him back into position. They resumed, and he closed his eyes, experiencing each sensation in its entirety, from beginning to end and over again. The soft lips at his throat. The firm hand cupped behind his knee. The deep vibration of his own voice, whimpering every time Saïx's hips made contact with him. He leaned into the steady motion of each thrust, slow and shallow as they moved together. He listened to the sounds, quiet and booming all at once. He heard the creaking of the mattress and rustling of the sheets, the heavy, ragged panting in his ear, the rapid drumming through the walls of Saïx's chest. Every aspect was amplified, sharpened. There was intimacy, passion, _humanity. _It was all so perfectly clear, and nearly as strong as it was when they still had hearts.

Axel watched Saïx's face contort with pleasure as his resolve weakened. His eyes were open, staring deeply into his own, exposing the bright flashes of wanton lust and yearning that he no longer had the discipline to hide. His internal battle with his own vicious desire, wincing with the effort of his restraint, skyrocketed Axel's arousal to dangerous levels. He was once again aware of the powerful convulsions in his torso as he neared his limit a second time.

Saïx didn't have to look at Axel to know where he was. He could feel every spasm in his musculature. He could feel him involuntarily constricting around him. He could hear the torturous sound of his moans and whimpers, each melodic tone dragging him closer and closer to his own breaking point. The sharp sting of fingernails digging into his back nearly did him in. He weathered the ravenous, burning ache inside him with all the willpower he could muster, yet it would not dissipate. It grew to alarming heights and he bit his lip to simmer it down. His composure was kept on a tight leash, and in that moment, the leash threatened to snap in two.

It wasn't that he was afraid to climax first. Axel was close enough that it wouldn't matter, and Saïx never adhered to such an oddly specific courtesy anyway. His pride wasn't on the line. Axel's safety was. After such a powerful session, how would Saïx react when it happened? Would he grip Axel a little too tightly? Would he press too heavily into him? Would his arms give out and drop him onto the man's broken body? Would he lose all control and berserk?

There was no more time for trepidation. When he could bear the sensations no longer, Saïx forced himself to slow his pace to a near halt. Winded and sweating, he grasped the sheets tightly to tame his savage lust. "I'm about to come, Lea…"

"Are you asking my permission?"

Saïx didn't answer. He couldn't answer, but for a look of pure desperation, pleading with only his eyes. Axel could hardly believe it. He _was_ asking for permission. He was _begging_ for release. And at the same time, displaying such fierce restraint in his tense muscles, he was warning him. He was warning Axel that he'd held back through the entire encounter, and now all hell was about to break loose.

The look in his eyes was unlike anything Axel had seen all evening. It was beyond sexual pleasure, it was beyond passion, it was beyond desperate yearning. There was a lifetime of memories behind those eyes. Memories of something beautiful and tragic and agonizing. They were brimming with years of long-forgotten emotions, born anew and just as strong as they were back then. They reflected all of the pain, the longing, and the regret that had been so deeply buried away. For just a brief moment, he saw the man Saïx used to be. In those eyes, he saw Isa.

Axel never looked away as he watched those same eyes widen at the highly-anticipated apex of pleasure. They stared fiercely and unblinking as the pressure released and he erupted with volcanic force. They watered as his resolve collapsed, his mouth agape in surprise and bewilderment. And they squeezed shut as he buried himself deep inside Axel, gasping and trembling, sinking all of his weight into him until he was fully spent. Axel's second climax, intense and satisfying as it was, could never compare. He'd never seen Saïx peak so hard in his life.

Saïx did lose control, if only for a second, scarcely able to recall an experience of even half the intensity as this one. He came with astounding force, the pleasure rising in a powerful crescendo and crashing with cascade of bliss. He did grip Axel a bit too hard, tightly linking their fingers until his knuckles turned white. He did throw his hips into him a little more firmly than he should have, bending down to eagerly take his lips as he emptied himself inside him. The kiss was frantic and messy as the two missed their targets, nipping at whatever they could reach and panting into each other's mouths.

When his vision cleared and the static in his head quieted, he found Axel smiling, unharmed and not disappointed. Saïx exhaled heavily with relief, thankful that he neither aggravated the injuries nor bored the man to tears with his delicate and careful work. For a long while, the two just stared at each other, out of breath, stunned and speechless. Even after they'd parted and cleaned up, they gazed at the ceiling together, completely lost for words.

It was undetermined how much time had passed when Axel finally broke the silence in a hoarse voice. "Isa…"

"Hm?"

"We should do that more often."

"I'll add it to my calendar," Saïx replied in perfect deadpan. "Right between yoga and book club."

Axel had almost forgotten how funny Saïx used to be when they were younger, always prepared with a quick quip at Axel's expense. As searing as the remarks could be, he'd always known where the line was, and Axel knew that his intention was only ever to poke fun and never to seriously disparage him. He could have burst into tears at the sound of the first joke Saïx had told in longer than he could even remember.

Grinning, Axel tossed a pillow at him and slowly sat upright. His ribs were throbbing, and he was certain that he would regret everything once morning came, but for the moment, the sight of Saïx looking almost catatonic as he lay motionless and staring blankly overhead was well worth the discomfort. It had been a long time since he'd looked so relaxed.

"What made you decide to come to me on that day?" Axel asked, unsure if he'd get a clear answer, or if he even wanted one. "After so many years?"

Saïx paused for a lengthy beat. Rather than face him, he averted his eyes when he finally spoke again. "Do you know what all those years can do to a man? It was starting to hurt."

Humorous as the response was, Axel knew that he was lying through his teeth. "Come on, Isa, if you were just horny, you would have jerked off like you apparently always do. There had to be another reason."

His insistence was only met with more silence, and still the man did not look at him. When he realized he wouldn't be getting an answer after all, Axel sighed in defeat and let the matter drop. "I guess you don't have to tell me."

He supposed he deserved the disappointment for getting his hopes up. Whether or not Saïx was reverting into Isa, it seemed it would take more than one good orgasm to loosen his tongue. Axel rose from the bed and limped to the closet where he retrieved a loose, sleeveless shirt. Slipping it over his head was easy, but fitting his arms into it proved to be a challenge. He was trying to work his mangled arm through one of the holes when he hissed loudly, leaning into the wall with a grimace. "Ah!"

Saïx practically jumped off the mattress and bolted to his side. "Here, let me help."

Axel defiantly waved him away, still trying to maneuver the useless limb into its place. "I can do it."

"Lea—"

"I can do it myself!"

Saïx stepped back and folded his arms. "Very well. Show me."

Axel tried again and again to work his battered arm into the sleeve hole, but he lacked the strength to lift it himself, and manipulating it with his other hand proved quite painful. When he finally gave up, Saïx stepped in, gently guiding it through the opening in the shirt. "Easy…"

"Ow!" Axel snapped. "Gently!"

"Sorry."

It took a few moments, but together they managed to get him comfortably into the garment. Axel huffed, rolling the aching joint as he trudged back to the bed. "Thanks."

Saïx cringed slightly. "Maybe we shouldn't have…"

"Don't you start with that," Axel cut him off, sliding on some shorts and perching on the edge of the mattress. "I knew what I was getting myself into, and it was worth it." He sighed heavily, wincing and letting his posture fall into a slump as best as he could in his condition. "I guess you were right. I'm in no shape to help search…"

Saïx had to agree with him. The injuries looked truly awful, and it was clear that Axel was severely handicapped for the long haul. "You can join as soon as you feel that it's usable."

"It's not like I'll be in heavy combat."

"You might be," he warned him. "The people on that world are prone to violence. They have been at war for all the time we have been observing them."

Axel shuddered. The last time he'd been to the new world, the only life he'd seen were some strange-looking animals. He remembered a small, furry creature with black patches around its eyes and a striped tail, a bird with wings that flapped so quickly he could hardly see them, even some large beasts with massive horns on their heads. As intimidating as some of them appeared, they all bolted at the sight of him and his comrades. Not one of them was a sentient being, and Axel had assumed none of them were deliberately hostile enough to attack someone like Vexen.

When Saïx informed him that the new world was inhabited by humans amidst a territorial dispute, he hoped the conflict would amount to little more than minor skirmishes and political exploits. It was no secret that Vexen prioritized brains over brawn, and likely would be woefully out of his element in a full-blown war. At first, Axel had high hopes, but every new detail he learned made him more and more nervous. "You think Vexen got hurt? Caught in the crossfire?"

"Perhaps," Saïx answered ominously. "Or captured."

Axel gulped. "They take prisoners?"

"They do. And they execute them. Quickly."

"Savages…"

With each passing day, the sense of foreboding intensified. With every unsuccessful search, the situation grew more and more desperate. There was no denying that Roxas was in bad shape. The Organization were all on the edge of their seats, waiting for the mysterious entity to explode out of the poor boy. Saïx and Zexion had all but accepted that however it might occur, Roxas would give birth to the creature, and then he would die. Retrieving Vexen was his only chance at survival, and now the scientist was conveniently missing. For all they knew, he was dead, and Saïx was the fool who had sent him to his fate. "If we lose Vexen…"

"Hey, don't think about that," Axel took his hand without even thinking. "We'll find him."

"It's my job to think about that. Especially now with…"

Axel caught the look on his face when his words trailed off. "With what?" he allowed for a pause, just long enough to give Saïx the time to spill. It was a chance the man did not take, and Axel pressed him further. "Isa, tell me."

Knowing full well that Axel would otherwise badger him all night until he talked, Saïx relented. "Xemnas has ordered me to send Roxas on a mission."

"What's the mission?"

He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, bracing himself for the inevitable. "Taking out that Heartless in Agrabah."

"What?!"

"Lea, listen—"

"You can't be serious! Are you actually going to do it?"

"What choice do I have?"

"He could die, Isa!"

"I can't stall any longer. I'm running out of excuses," Saïx appealed to him, all but begging for his understanding. "Look, if I have to go out there with him myself…"

"Send me, too."

"Lea, you're too weak—"

"If something happens, I want to be with him."

Saïx hadn't realized it, but Axel was still holding his hand. There was a gentle squeeze around his fingers, clamping tightly, reluctant to let go. The man wasn't going to budge on this issue, and Saïx couldn't blame him. He'd have insisted the same thing in his shoes. "Very well. You may join the team. But if you get hurt, I'm taking your place."

"Deal."

As the two settled closely under the blankets and Saïx draped an arm over Axel's body, he wondered if he might actually fall asleep. Axel was warm. His skin was soft. He smelled pleasant and familiar. It had been years since they'd spent a night together, and as Saïx closed his eyes and let the heaviness overtake him, he realized just how much he'd missed it.

He drifted into a dream, or perhaps just a memory. He was lying on cold tile, barely able to see Axel's blurry shape hovering over him. He remembered the warmth of his trembling hand clutching his own. He remembered the frantic sound of his voice, calling his name, begging him to answer. The pain in his chest. The grief in his eyes. It had been ten long years since that day, but the sensations were so potent now that Saïx might have believed he had traveled back in time.

Through it all, Axel was strong. He was strong when the numbness set in, before the shock had even worn off. He was strong night after sorrowful night, silently holding Saïx together as he collapsed with despair. He was strong when the tears stopped and the anger began, and he was strong when he finally realized he had no choice but to walk away. Axel was strong when he didn't have to be. Axel was strong when everything was hopeless. Axel was strong when Saïx was weak. And for his altruism, he'd only ever been repaid with more sorrow. Saïx couldn't bear to watch another second of it. The man had suffered enough. He'd lost enough friends. He'd shed enough tears. Axel deserved better than the hand he'd been dealt.

"Lea," he whispered, half hoping his friend was already sound asleep.

"Hm?" Axel moaned in response.

He almost lost his nerve. His mouth dried up and his throat clenched. Perhaps Axel wasn't listening. Maybe he wouldn't remember any of it. But Saïx couldn't let the words go unspoken for one more moment. "I know what he means to you," he confessed. "I am doing everything I can."

Axel lifted his head with a soft gasp. "Isa…"

"Go to sleep."


	24. An Understanding

As he pried his eyes open, unwilling to accept that it was morning so soon, Axel couldn't decide if this was the best kind of hangover or the worst. There wasn't a single bit of him that didn't hurt. His hips were sore. His shoulder was throbbing. His ribs were on fire. Not an inch of his body was spared. It was a long moment before he remembered what had happened, and he very nearly let himself regret the events of the previous evening. But as he came around and discovered that he was lying beside Saïx, curled up in his arm and with his head resting on his chest, he couldn't bring himself to resent a single second of the aches and pains. He carefully lifted his head to steal a glance at his companion's face, astounded to see that his eyes were closed. The man didn't stir even as Axel cautiously rose from the bed to admire him further. It was a rare and welcome surprise to find him looking so peaceful. For once — probably the first time in who knows how long — Saïx was sound asleep.

Axel hobbled toward the window and perched on the sill, welcoming the relief of the cold glass against his skin. It was hard not to stare at Saïx while he slept. The man was changing. It was more and more noticeable with every visit. He was more handsome than he used to be. His sharp jawline, his soft, fair skin, and his silky blue hair were more pronounced. The look in his eyes had shifted from looking bored and lifeless to intense and thoughtful. There was no longer contempt and bitterness in his voice. He was a completely different man. In him, Axel saw more Isa than ever before.

But he could admit that Saïx was not the only one who was different. Axel had become aware of his own changes as well — the new feelings he'd thought were long gone, the brighter tones in his vision, the new clarity in his mind. He'd forgotten what bliss felt like. How pleasurable happiness really was. How wonderfully jarring it was to look at something — or someone — and find it beautiful. Find _him_ beautiful. It had been so long. Far too long.

Saïx began to stir after a while. Moaning sleepily, his eyes slowly fluttered open, wandering around before settling on Axel as he casually watched from the window sill.

"What time is it?" he whispered hoarsely, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Time for you to give us all a vacation."

Saïx rolled his eyes and sat up, yawning and stretching. "How long have you been sitting up there?"

Axel grinned. "You were sleeping."

"You were watching me?"

"Maybe," Axel hopped down and staggered over to join Saïx on the bed, far more energetic than he ever was at this time of day. Saïx winced as he watched him, sighing heavily.

"You're limping."

"Did you dream about me?"

"Lea…"

"Okay, yes, I'm a little sore," Axel admitted, weary of Saïx's continued guilt. "That means it was good. I regret nothing."

Looking almost relieved, Saïx swung his legs over to get out of bed. Axel crawled over and caught him, slipping his arms around him from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. Breathing in the exquisite scent that only Saïx carried made him all the more impossible to resist, and Axel couldn't stop himself planting a kiss onto the man's neck. He felt the resulting shudder traveling down Saïx's spine and the sudden tension in his musculature. His posture seemed to melt as he relaxed into Axel's touch, clasping his hand as it rested against his chest.

Saïx stared contemplatively into space. Although there wasn't a sound in the room, there was an overwhelming noise in his ears. A chorus of conflicting voices stuck in a looping argument, perpetually battling for his attention. He was engulfed in memories from the previous night. Still high from the sex, still shaken by the dream, still fighting the lingering echoes of emotion, still taken aback by the dazzling sight of Axel smiling at him with such affection on his face. His eyes were bright and friendly, no different than when he was human. That same broken frame that only hours ago had writhed and bucked beneath him was now draped over him so gracefully, so delicately. The man was as lovely as he always was, bruises and all.

"Talk to me, Isa."

Axel's voice interrupted him from his trance. A glance at the clock informed him that it was nearly time to go downstairs, but the last thing he wanted was to leave. Not while he was so comfortable, wrapped up in such warmth. He would have stayed there forever if fate allowed. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't need to talk," Axel answered matter-of-factly. "I'm lending an ear."

With a subtle grin and a quiet exhale, Saïx brought Axel's wrist to his lips, kissing it gently before rising to his feet. He dressed in silence, leaving his friend waiting for a response, unsure that he would even give him one. How could be possibly describe the sensations he felt? The room looked different, yet it was the same room where he visited Axel for years. Saïx had been in that bed more times than he could count, yet it felt softer this morning. Axel himself seemed different, but not a single feature had changed. He wondered if perhaps this was what the world looked like when one could sleep.

"I'm not sure I can articulate my thoughts at this time," he muttered, hoping his excuse might satisfy the man's curiosity for the time being. It was at least an honest one.

"Try," Axel insisted. "Say the most basic thing on your mind. No matter how simple it is."

Saïx lowered his eyes in thought, sorting out the mess in his head. It took several seconds for him to pull out one coherent observation. "I feel something."

"Indigestion?"

Humor always worked. Saïx laughed quietly, appreciating his friend's attempt to lighten the mood. "No."

"An emotion?"

He hesitated, unsure if he was ready to admit it out loud. _It's just Lea. You could always talk to Lea. _He took a breath. "I believe so."

Axel's voice was brimming with anticipation and poorly-concealed excitement. "But it troubles you?"

Saïx waited, thinking. "I'm not sure."

"Do you know what it is?"

There was a long pause while Saïx tried to identify it. It didn't feel like any one emotion. It seemed to be a mixture of several, and he couldn't make out any individual feeling among the many. "No."

Axel's face fell slightly, but he quickly masked his reaction with a more curious tone. "Is it good?"

Saïx, growing impatient with the questions, adjusted his appearance in the mirror, preparing to leave. Axel stood up from the bed and approached him cautiously. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

"You haven't offended me. I need to get downstairs."

He headed for the door without looking back, only stopping when Axel called his name.

"Isa…"

Saïx froze, warring internally with whether or not to stay safe and leave or to be vulnerable and turn back around. Every natural instinct he possessed told him to go back and take the man into his arms and never let him go. But that instinct argued loudly with the nagging voice in his head that told him to open the door and run as fast as possible. There was no question that he was feeling an emotion — one that he hadn't felt in many years. He no longer recognized it, but whatever it was, it was more powerful than any he'd ever experienced for as long as he could remember. It was biting him, stinging his skin, burning him up. At the same time, it was caressing him sweetly, lovingly. It was loud and grating, but also soft and soothing. It was every color, every temperature on every spectrum, bursting into vibrant flashes of light before his eyes. The conflicting sensations wrapped him up in such an intense and beautiful agony that he was certain he'd lose himself in the pain and the bliss.

With all of his willpower, he turned around and faced Axel, staring directly into his eyes. It was the first time in his life that he'd ever felt intimidated in doing so. He drank in that feeling, that electrifying apprehension. He coaxed himself to take a step forward, and then another, until he was just inches from his old friend. Neither man could read the other's face, nor could they think of any words to say. Still, the message was loud and clear for both of them. Saïx took Axel by the chin and drew him in, kissing him deeply.

Axel knew the kiss was coming yet still was woefully unprepared for the sudden heat of Saïx's lips on his own. He swooned, fully prepared to collapse to his knees as he drank him in. Ever since Saïx had entered his room the previous evening, it was like stepping into a different world, a different time. They were younger, happier men. They were in love and nothing else mattered. Now, Axel could only wonder if all of that would cease the moment he let the man walk out that door. He couldn't bear the thought, and as he stood there, frozen, locked in another life-altering kiss, he held onto Saïx for dear life and refused to let him go.

Sadly, after a few moments Saïx broke the kiss, resting against his forehead and caressing his cheek. The searing intensity of his stare was almost frightening in how powerful it was. For once, it wasn't cold and it wasn't bitter. As sinister as the man could seem, as haunting as his eyes appeared, Axel knew that behind the mask of stone was Isa, and he had the privilege of catching a brief glimpse of his old friend before he reluctantly left the room.

It was ten minutes before Axel grew too restless to stay in his room any longer. He needed new air to breathe, fresh sights for his tired eyes, more space to think. He struggled into his coat and headed out the door, wandering the halls in a daze and letting his thoughts speak uninterrupted. At this point, he couldn't really decide what he and Saïx were. Their relationship had been all over the map, up and down the spectrum of drama and chaos. Walking away from him all those years ago was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but at the time was convinced he'd been left with no other choice. They'd have both gone mad staying together as they were. They didn't have hearts. They couldn't love each other anymore, no matter how hard they tried, and pretending was only hurting them. He thought they were better off that way, separated and free.

But now, reflecting on all they'd been through these past several months, Axel began to wonder if perhaps he was wrong. All those weighty conversations, the bitter arguments, the sex so raucous they may as well have been seventeen again. That evening after Saïx's berserk attack, listening to him confess that he missed being _Lea and Isa._ Even the previous night, holding each other so tightly as they lost themselves in pleasure. The two didn't just have sex. They _made love. _The difference was unmistakable. The look in Saïx's eyes, before, during, and after, could not be interpreted any other way. Something had changed between them, and perhaps, Axel thought, it was time to re-examine that choice — or mistake — he'd made back then.

He'd been so lost in thought that he had no idea where he was walking until he found himself at Roxas' door. He raised a fist to knock, only to freeze in place before making his request. Roxas could be asleep. He could be in the shower. He could be busy. Maybe he wasn't even in there. Axel's anxious mind dredged up excuse after excuse, pathetic enough that he chided himself for entertaining a one of them. He took a breath, slowly, so deeply that his ribs ached, yet he felt no less tense after he'd exhaled. Stalling was getting him nowhere. He lifted his chin and knocked.

"Yeah, come in."

The door opened and he shuffled inside, wearing his nerves on his sleeve. Roxas was lying in bed, writing in his journal. They exchanged half-hearted smiles, their minds both full with other matters. Right away he could feel the crushing weight of the heavy air in the room, could read his friend's face like a book. The silence must have only lasted a split second, but felt like an eternity while both waited for the other to break it.

_Speak, you dumbass!_

He cleared his throat. "Heya, Roxas."

There was no change in the boy's expression. "You're not supposed to be out of bed."

Axel scoffed defiantly, shooting him a playful smirk. "And what are you going to do about it?"

The wall between them crumbled to bits. Roxas grinned and set aside his notebook. "What's up? Are you doing better?"

Axel sighed with relief, limping to the bed and taking a seat. "I've got good days and bad days," he shrugged, wincing at the twinge in his shoulder. "How about you? How have you been feeling?"

The beat that followed was all the answer Axel needed, but Roxas spoke anyway. "I'm alright."

Axel skeptically crossed his arms as best he could. "I'm not convinced. What's up, man?"

It was so like Roxas to conceal the truth of his discomfort. Of course the boy would keep his head up and power through. He was just that way. But that wasn't good enough for Axel, and Roxas knew he'd been cornered. He drew out a sigh and spilled. "I'm tired, Axel. I'm so tired. I feel like hell. I'm tired of it all."

He wasn't done, and was grateful that Axel didn't interrupt. There was so much more to say. He could talk for hours if allowed. He'd been holding it all in for so long, and he tried to sit up so that he could meet Axel face to face and say his piece with some conviction. It was hard to even maneuver himself to an upright position. He could barely support his own massive weight with his weak arms. He struggled, scooting and lifting inch by inch until he was in place, refusing Axel's outstretched hand. No more coddling. He didn't need any help.

He made it, all on his own, huffing with exhaustion and thoroughly satisfied with the accomplishment, then pressed on with his monologue. "Everything hurts," he declared purposefully. "I feel dizzy and nauseous. I can't sleep. I'm at my wits' end."

Roxas anticipated guilt. He wasn't surprised by guilt. Axel's compulsion to placate him was as typical as anything else he ever said. He'd have expected the same response from anyone. But it still annoyed him. Guilt served no purpose. It changed nothing, solved nothing. As far as Roxas was concerned, it was a useless emotion, and he was tired of seeing it on everyone's faces day after day.

Axel cringed. "Hey… maybe Zexion can help you—"

"You know what makes it all worse?" Roxas cut him off, the agitation rising in his voice. "Being stuck here alone all day. I have no one to talk to. Nowhere to go. The only other face I see is my own hideous reflection."

Every word came from deep inside him, and he spat them out with all the pent up anger and hurt he'd collected behind them, propelling them with the force of his frustration. Something in his chest was racing, heat was rising in his face. It was almost exhilarating to get _mad. _Anger had never felt more justified than it did in that moment, and he truly needed it. "I can take feeling miserable all day and night, I can handle the pain, but I can't stand the isolation. I'm so goddamn lonely, Axel. I hate it. I hate all of this. I am so enormously, infuriatingly, hopelessly _tired."_

For a moment, Axel wondered if he ought to say anything in response. Nothing he could come up with would ever make up for this. _Look at him. Look him in the eyes. _The boy was waiting. His expectant look demanded a response, and it was Axel's turn to answer. "Roxas… I'm so sorry…"

As much as he hated the never ending fountain of remorse, Roxas hated seeing the man looking so downcast even more. Maybe Axel deserved to be chewed out for his neglect. But they were best friends. Without him, Roxas would have no one. His hardened expression softened as he wrestled with his own sudden flash of guilt. "Don't… I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"You have every right."

"No," he insisted. "I should be leaning on my friends. Not pushing them away."

Axel reached for him to lay a hand on his shoulder, glad that he didn't flinch. "Nothing you say could push me away, Roxas. You're my best friend. I told you I'd be there for you and I meant it."

Roxas supposed Axel could never truly understand what he was going through. No one really could, and it was unfair to expect that anyone would have any idea the suffering this experiment had wrought. There was so much more to the loneliness than just being left isolated in his room. Over time, he was aware of his own identity being swallowed by the beast he carried. As well-meaning as they might have been, the others were beginning to see him as only a _vessel. _Every conversation was about the experiment, the pregnancy, the entity. It was all anyone wanted to talk about, and yet when Roxas needed to commiserate, their first suggestions were to send him to Zexion to be coddled or confine him to bed to die of boredom. Just dump him off somewhere. Make him someone else's problem. He could have been surrounded by his comrades and still have felt just as lonesome.

He shouldn't have been surprised — he could feel all of their anxiety almost as strongly as they could. He made them nervous, and he could live with that, but he couldn't resent them for it. As good as it felt to be angry, it felt better to set it aside. The thrill was invigorating, but it hurt just as much as the loneliness. Roxas wasn't through with Axel — the man had a lot to answer for — but for the moment, he was just as tired of the rage as he was of anything else.

"You want to go up to the clock tower?" Axel asked with brighter eyes. "Have some ice cream like old times?"

Roxas wanted nothing more, but slumped at the suggestion. "Saïx will never let us go."

Axel wasn't taking 'no' for an answer, and was already climbing off the bed and extending a hand for Roxas. "He doesn't have to know."

"You're gonna get us in trouble."

Axel scoffed. "I guess you're right. We'd better be careful or he'll throw us out of the Organization."

With a wink and a grin, Axel had him convinced. Roxas took his friend's hand and let himself be pulled out of bed. They made it to Twilight Town without incident, having avoided Saïx quite easily thanks to Axel's cunning. The climb up the clock tower was taxing, but well worth the taste of the ice cream, the view of the setting sun, and the fresh breeze on his skin. Just as it had always been, they sat together without a word, just watching the sky and eating their ice cream. Roxas let himself bask in the elation — the first he'd felt in months. He no longer questioned his ability to feel, nor anyone else's. It didn't matter anyway. He'd enjoy it for as long as it lasted. For once, he was just happy to be on that ledge again. Happy to know that these days weren't gone. Happy to be with Axel. Happy to be happy.

The sudden strike of melancholy was shocking enough to catch his breath in his throat. The fullness in his eyes, the tightness in his gut — it all came out of nowhere, rendering him speechless. The emotion was so powerful that it clouded his thoughts and he failed to recognize at first that it didn't belong to him. He turned to Axel, the only other soul in the vicinity. He wasn't watching the sunset. He wasn't eating his ice cream. He sat with his head down, staring at the ground, biting his lip in a desperate attempt to conceal the obviously forlorn expression on his face.

"Axel, what's wrong?"

His head shot up, unprepared. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Roxas pressed him. "You look really sad."

"Oh, uh," Axel scratched his head. "I was just thinking, is all."

Another deflection. Whatever it was, it was hurting him deeply, and Roxas wanted nothing more than to help, but he knew he wouldn't be getting any further explanation from him. Seeing no point to more prodding, Roxas backed off and left him to his thoughts.

He'd long since finished his ice cream bar, thrilled that the entity hadn't been upset by it. Finally, there was no pain, no nausea. Not even an indignant punt in defiance of the cold temperature. Roxas had foolishly taken for granted the simple pleasure of enjoying his favorite dessert, having missed it dearly when that privilege was gone. At last, he was allowed this small joy right when he needed it most, and for just a brief moment, he stifled his resentment of the creature to make way for a glimmer of appreciation after its sudden show of patience.

"Hey, Axel?"

"Hmm?"

"When are you going to tell me what really happened to you?"

Axel cringed, leaving his friend hanging while he considered how he'd ever be able to explain the incident. "Roxas, I… I'm not sure you'd understand…"

"Try me."

Part of Axel would have rather jumped off the clock tower than unbox the tangled mess of his relationship with Saïx and attempt to make sense of it for Roxas. Surely the boy was too young to understand all of those complicated emotions anyway. But Roxas was stubborn as ever. Axel knew he wouldn't be budging on this, and he could only hope that he'd find it in himself to have an open mind and accept the facts as they were. After a long breath, he began his story. "I got hurt… in battle," he kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he confessed. "With Saïx."

"What?" Roxas gaped at him. "Saïx did this to you?"

The can had been blasted wide open and the worms were all spilling out. There was no turning back at this point. "Yes. He berserked and attacked me."

Roxas narrowed his eyes. "I guess you're right," he conceded. "I don't understand."

Axel expected as much. There were parts of it he didn't even understand himself. He still didn't know why Saïx berserked that night, and he supposed he might never find out. The confused and almost angry look on Roxas' face wasn't making the explanation any easier, but he figured he'd feel the same way if he found out that the kid had been hurt by someone believed to be his friend. The thought alone turned his stomach so violently that he felt dangerously nauseated for a second.

"Roxas, have you ever seen Saïx berserk?"

Roxas didn't answer right away, at first dropping his head with a contemplative look. "Yes… Yes, I've seen it before. I thought that was just one of his abilities?"

"It is. But sometimes it just happens for no reason, and he can't control it."

"And he doesn't even recognize his own friends when it happens?"

"I think he does," Axel sighed. "I just think that whatever forces are controlling him are stronger than his own will."

The man was picking at his ice cream stick, stripping splinters of wood from it one by one and watching them flutter away in the wind. He waited for some time before working up the nerve to resume the discussion. "I got to him too late. I was trying to bring him back. I'm one of the few who can do it without pummeling him, and I'm the only one here who knows his fighting style well enough to have any chance at surviving a confrontation with him."

Something was buzzing incessantly in Roxas' mind, nudging him, demanding his attention. It was an unfamiliar image that flashed by without warning. Much like those memories he didn't recognize. The ones Axel refused to clarify. "You should let me do it, Axel," he said persuasively. "You might not be healed up enough when it happens again."

"Are you crazy? In your condition, he'd wipe the floor with you."

Roxas was insistent. "I can take him. I've already beaten him once—"

The buzz in his head grew to a deafening volume, screeching in his ears until his vision darkened and he felt dizzy. In an instant he was flooded with more pictures he'd never seen. He was turning away from a man and a woman he didn't recognize. He was sulking on a cobblestone path in a town he'd never been to. He was approached by a pair of boys his age. They looked so familiar, but their faces were out of focus, almost completely blurred. Who were they? Why did he feel such warmth in their presence?

"Roxas?" Axel prompted him, throwing an arm in front of his chest to prevent him falling. "Are you okay? Are you having one of those—?"

"No, no, it's not that," Roxas answered hastily, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. "My head hurts. I got this sudden… rush of memories again."

"What are they memories of?"

The scenes continued to play, jumping through from beat to beat. Roxas was battling one of the boys while the other stood off to the side watching. The air was light and cheerful, and he could sense that there was no danger in this memory. He could just barely make out a hauntingly familiar grin on his opponent's face, and could have sworn he'd heard that laughter before. But no matter how hard he concentrated, the fog wouldn't clear away and the images wouldn't sharpen.

"Sorry," he sighed, defeated. "It's all a mess. I can hardly make any of it out."

Axel patted him on the back. "It's okay, buddy. Anyway, you don't have to worry about me. I can handle Saïx. Gotta protect my comrades, you know?" His face seemed to change before adding, "Gotta protect him, too."

Axel had bowed his head once more, searching inward with an expression Roxas couldn't place. He softened, somewhat touched by the cloud of emotions wafting from the man. They were mature and complex and twisted in knots, well beyond Roxas' comprehension. "You really care about him."

Axel looked him directly in the eye when he delivered his confession. "Roxas… Saïx was my best friend."

Roxas was predictably stunned by the revelation, having never met two men more obviously incompatible by his standards. His mind raced with questions, but he pursed his lips to let Axel continue.

"Things are complicated now. They have been ever since we joined up. But I'll always care about him," he tugged at the front of his coat, grasping absentmindedly at his chest as he spoke. "When you get that close to someone, Roxas, those feelings will never go away, no matter how hard you try to forget them."

In a way, Roxas could see the progression of Axel and Saïx's history plainly on the man's face. Axel was in the past, walking through a series of memories so clear and so powerful that Roxas could only imagine what they contained. Some were blissful and happy, while others were devastating and painful. He watched helplessly as his friend sat there, living out each one in succession, increasingly curious about the events therein. Roxas came to wonder what Saïx had been like in the past for Axel to have been his best friend, to carry such vivid memories and strong emotions along with him for so many years. He wondered what Saïx's Somebody was like, and what had turned the man's Nobody so cold. And he wondered what had happened between them that had destroyed their friendship.

"You two must have had something really special," Roxas remarked. "If those feelings are so strong that they stuck with you even after you lost your heart and became a Nobody… then maybe they weren't meant to be forgotten. Maybe they belong there."

Axel returned with a weary smile. "I appreciate that, Roxas. But it's just not the same anymore."

"Maybe it isn't supposed to be. Maybe things can never go back to the way they were before, but who's to say that two people who care about each other can't find a new way together?"

Axel was silent, giving Roxas a long, peculiar look. Unexpectedly, he burst out laughing. "Damn it, Roxas, how do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"The things you say just… man, they really hit me hard. It's like you know _exactly _what I need to hear. I don't get it!"

Roxas shrugged. "For all I know, I'm a hundred percent wrong."

"No," Axel shook his head. "No, you're right. A hundred percent right."

Saïx was easy to hate. He was a cold, callous jerk on even his best days, always hyper-critical and impossible to please. It seemed that no one in the Organization really _liked _him. They merely respected his role in the grand scheme and otherwise just tolerated his presence. Roxas very nearly felt sorry for the man upon the realization that they had something in common — loneliness. But as contemptuous and irritable as he was, there was something about him that awakened something intense and potent inside Axel. Something that lay dormant for many years. A sensation so pleasurable that it hurt, and at the same time so painful that it felt good. Whatever it was, it made Axel's story all the more tragic, knowing that no matter how strong a bond they shared, no matter how deep and beautiful their friendship was, they'd grown apart. Whether it was the loss of their hearts, or just the cruel test of time, that bond was broken, and that relationship dissolved. Roxas could scarcely imagine an experience more painful than to lose one's best friend, only to have to see them every day and pretend that all the memories weren't still fresh in their mind.

"Axel… I hope that no matter what happens, we always stay friends," he wished aloud. "I lost a lot of my memories, but I know I'll never forget about you."

Roxas knew he'd made a mistake the moment the words had left his mouth and he caught the mischievous grin on his friend's face. "Oh no…"

"So…"

Roxas held Axel at arm's length, attempting to halt his slow approach. "No, don't say it!"

"You mean…"

"I take it back!"

"You've got it…"

"Axel!"

"_Memorized?!"_

Axel trapped Roxas in the crook of his elbow and playfully ruffled his hair, cackling maniacally as his prey struggled in his clutches. Laughing along until it was hard to breathe, Roxas finally shoved the man off of him. "You're obnoxious!"

For some mysterious reason he didn't care to ponder, those words brought tears to Axel's eyes. Still giggling, he turned away, feigning interest in watching the tram driving along below them while he frantically worked to restore his composure. Thankfully, Roxas hadn't noticed, and eventually, the two made their way back down the clock tower steps after having spent at least two hours taking in the sunset. They dawdled as they made their way back into town, reluctant to go home. The Castle, the Organization — they reeked of foreboding and discontentment. Every day it seemed the floor sank another inch under the weight of their stress, their fear and their dread. The moment they reentered their haunting abode, they would dive back into the madness. Axel would return to the ache of his injuries and the heaviness of his emotional torments. Roxas would return to the discomfort and malaise from the experiment, and the loneliness of bedrest. They had enjoyed their little escape, and loathed that it had to end so soon. After all, neither could say with certainty whether there would be another one.

"Hey," Roxas queried as they trekked down Station Heights toward the Tram Common. "Does Saïx like ice cream?"

"Yup."

Roxas sat with that response for a moment. Saïx could taste ice cream just like the two of them. He could appreciate it just as much as anyone else. It was either a testament to the mouthwatering delight of sea-salt ice cream, or to Saïx's latent humanity. If even _he_ wasn't spared the dessert's merciless temptation, then perhaps he was not so different from the rest of them. Perhaps he wasn't as cold and disdainful as he seemed. And, perhaps it was time for Roxas to re-evaluate his judgment of him.

"Let's bring him one," he suggested. "Maybe he'll be less mad about us taking off."

Axel beamed at him, so happy that Roxas almost didn't recognize the man behind the smile. "That sounds like a great idea."

* * *

**Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who reads this story. Since it's my first, I just have so much love in my heart for this one, it's like my child. I can't wait to show you what I have in store. 3**


	25. The Good Fight

I'd like to give a special shout out to my good friends May and Heten! Thanks so much for your support!

* * *

The new world was quite lovely, if a bit dull. The breathtaking flora spread as far and wide as their eyes could see, blanketing the earth with lush, green woodlands, mountainous cliffs, and elegant waterfalls. The fauna roamed the land openly, leaping through fields or flying overhead without a care for their presence. Hardly any of the creatures were familiar — some were massive beasts with dazzling antlers, majestically grazing in bright meadows. Others were small and quick, chasing their companions and flicking their long, bushy tails as they darted across the forest floor and out of sight. There was so much to see, but nothing to see at all. There were no people whatsoever. Certainly none of the humans Saïx had mentioned, and not a single trace of Vexen.

Luxord and Demyx had reached a large clearing housing only a small stream and a positively massive tree. Its thick trunk was impressively tall, but rather than standing proudly as one might expect for a tree of its stature, this specimen seemed to slump over at the waist, drooping heavily with its long, leafy vines hanging in cascading sheets so low that they nearly touched the ground. Luxord likened the appearance to an old woman with long hair, crouched on her knees with her head bowed in grief. As sorrowful a sight as it was, it was as beautiful as an oil painting. Upon scanning the woods around them, Luxord discovered that it was the only one of its kind.

"Demyx, isn't it magnificent?"

Demyx had taken a seat on a nearby root and was absentmindedly plucking at his sitar. "Huh?" he looked up to see Luxord admiring the enormous tree. "Oh. Yeah. Amazing."

His disinterest was clearly audible in his tone, and he quickly dropped his head, returning his focus to his instrument. Luxord incredulously raised an eyebrow. "Come now, Demyx, I thought you were very in tune with nature. Does this scenery not invigorate you?"

There was no change to the musician's demeanor. "I guess," he shrugged. "Let me know if you find some shrooms."

Luxord, sighing, supposed now was as good a time as any. Demyx had been unusually depressed for almost the entire day, and not only was he concerned for the boy, but the sullen mood was starting to really wear on him. He joined his friend on the gnarled root sticking out of the ground and thought for a moment how to approach the subject.

"Demyx," he began. "I don't mean to pry, but you seem a bit under the weather. Are you unwell?"

"I'm just tired."

Luxord wasn't about to give up so easily. He pulled some supplies out of his pocket and began very deliberately making preparations in clear view of his young comrade. "Too tired for this, I presume?"

Demyx narrowed his eyes. "You want to smoke while we're still on the clock?"

"Why not?" Luxord fired up the lighter for his first hit and passed it to Demyx. "Join me."

Demyx, still looking suspicious, set aside his instrument and obliged the man, blowing an impressive smoke ring into the air in front of him. They passed the substance back and forth in silence for several minutes until they both could relax into the high. Luxord leaned back to let a warm sunbeam that had broken through the canopy fall onto his face. The air was still and quiet, giving way to a peaceful and calming atmosphere. Saïx had warned them of hundreds of men engaged in violent combat. He spoke of ships with cannons and heavy artillery, explosives, surprise attacks. He instructed them to watch their backs, never to let their guard down, lest they be taken as prisoners. To think that anyone could decide to go to war in a place as enchanting as this. Just what was there to fight over here?

"Hey, Luxord?"

Demyx's voice took him by surprise, having not expected the musician to actually be the one to open the dialogue. "Yes, Demyx?"

"How did you and Xigbar meet?"

The question alone brought back the bright lights in dark rooms almost instantly. He could see the flashing colors and numbers as clearly as if he were there now. He could already hear the soft shuffling of cards, the gentle knocking of dice on tables, the clinking of ice cubes inside cocktail glasses, and the amused laughter of the posh upper class. He smiled, welcoming the opportunity to reminisce.

"Ah, such a humorous story," he chuckled fondly. "It was at a poker tournament."

Demyx's jaw dropped. "No way."

"It's true," Luxord nodded. "As I recall, he wasn't there to play. In fact, he was with someone else. But he caught my eye. In my distraction, I nearly lost the hand I was playing at the time."

It may as well have been yesterday. The stunning image of that slender figure, so gracefully draped over the broad shoulders of a lucky stranger would be burned in his memory for all eternity. So strong was his infatuation with those painted-on leather trousers that Luxord's bets were more and more bold every hand. His poker face was faltering as he got lost in that long, dark hair. He recalled the exact moment he decided to pursue the man, surreptitiously following him to the bar just to hear his drink of choice.

"_Whiskey sour, two cherries."_

Luxord grinned to himself. "Seemed I stole his attention, too, because a few drinks later I had him in my hotel room."

Demyx gagged, cringing with disgust. "Ew, okay, I get it!"

Luxord was still laughing, stuck on the electrifying memory of the man who called himself Braig tying a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue alone. The two of them sat at that bar for hours, sharing cocktails and talking about everything and nothing, but that was _after _round one in Luxord's hotel room upstairs. It was almost too easy to leave the broad-shouldered stranger at a craps table and steal away to the nearest lift. They couldn't keep their hands off of each other for the entire ride up, and their lips were locked for nearly every step down the hall. Their clothes were off in record time once the door had closed behind them and they practically raced to the bed. That was when everything slowed down.

The sex was not rushed or aggressive. Not the first time. Luxord had a reputation to keep. He was a gentleman, and he refused to be rough with a man so fine and delicate. He wanted to savor every moment. He wanted to remember it for decades to come. They took their sweet time like it would never run out. Braig was so beautiful in the moonlight. Luxord couldn't tear his eyes away from the shadows cast over the man's lean frame as his back arched in ecstasy. Inside him was exquisitely warm and taut. The quiet hum of him purring against his chest was more lovely than any music he'd ever heard. Braig was irresistible. He was perfect.

Luxord endeavored to wrap up the story before he lost himself entirely. "It was casual at first. I was traveling, and I intended to go home after the tournament. But I never did," he smiled. "He dropped that other fellow and here we are."

"How long ago was that?"

Luxord shook his head, blushing slightly. "Ah, Demyx, you're going to make me show my age…"

His attempt at a deflection was met with silence and he turned to find Demyx staring with an expectant look. Luxord simply couldn't refuse, and he drew a long breath before revealing the truth. "It was nearly fifteen years ago."

Demyx gasped, turning fully to listen eagerly like a student in a college lecture. "How do you make it last so long?"

"Hm," Luxord stroked his chin while he pondered his answer. "I think the secret to a long-lasting relationship is communication. Xigbar has a very unique style of communicating which took me quite awhile to learn, but we're all the better for it."

"Have you ever had a fight?"

A laugh burst from his lips before he could restrain himself. "Plenty," he admitted breathlessly, still recovering. "He can be rather insensitive and oblivious at times. Not that he means to be. He's just that way — the type of man who'd tell jokes at a funeral and wonder why no one was laughing. So carefree that he can cross over into careless."

Demyx smirked. "That I can believe."

Luxord nudged him playfully, chortling. "But it's that carefree nature that draws me to him. And sometimes being careless is an adventure. There's nothing quite like gambling with fate itself," he lowered his voice as if to tell a forbidden secret. "And I like to think I've taught him a thing or two about empathy."

The source of Demyx's curiosity was plainly obvious for Luxord, as he watched the boy lap up every word he said. Part of him wanted to be thrilled that Demyx was asking these questions, but somewhere deep inside himself, he could have sworn he felt a glimmer of sadness. Nostalgia washed over him as he recounted the tale of his new, blossoming relationship with Xigbar, and that same nostalgia seemed to coat him a second time as he remembered those days where Demyx was only a boy, far more interested in his music than anything else. For him, the very idea that those days were gone for good was something to be both celebrated and mourned. _Everybody grows up_, Luxord supposed. _Even Nobodies._

"We're too old to let insignificant matters trip us up," he added. "We focus on what's important. A petty spat isn't worth ending it all."

"How can you be so sure?"

He patted the young musician on the back with a supportive, yet melancholic smile. "People who are together don't always see eye to eye, and that's quite natural. But it doesn't signify that they weren't meant to be."

"This is confusing…" Demyx sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "Axel said people just have a bunch of buttons and switches and you gotta be careful which ones you flip…"

Luxord hummed thoughtfully. "I'd like to think that people — even Nobodies — are a bit more complicated than that."

Demyx dropped his head, staring into the stream below him. The water was surprisingly clear, enough to show him a perfect reflection of his own face. He looked like hell. It was quite clear from the bags under his eyes and the chalky appearance to his skin that he hadn't been sleeping much. Even the cuddly moogle doll couldn't chase away the nagging thoughts of where he might have gone wrong. Even his sitar could no longer sing him to sleep. He understood quite well why Zexion was upset, and would likely have felt the same way in his shoes. But he had more questions than answers. He found himself wondering where they stood — were they still together? He knew Zexion would be the only person he should ask, yet couldn't bring himself to do it. Zexion wanted to be left alone, and Demyx had made a point of waiting for the man to come to him when he was ready.

At the bottom of everything, Demyx questioned whether they should have even attempted to develop such a relationship. They had no hearts, and they should have known that it would be a challenging feat. Luxord and Xigbar had been together for so long that it was a habit for them to be together. They had time and experience that the younger pair lacked. Perhaps, Demyx thought, the two of them had been setting themselves up for failure all along.

"But…" he turned back to Luxord, still somewhat hopeful. "Hasn't it all changed since losing your hearts?"

"Oh yes," Luxord agreed. "It is the nature of relationships to shift periodically. But one must not fear change, for they can never truly escape it." He met the trepidation on Demyx's face with support and sympathy, and he mirrored the hint of optimism in his voice as he elaborated. "It is… different to love without a heart. But not impossible. If you want it desperately enough, you will fight for it, and you will win."

"But how can you love someone if you can't feel it?"

"Love isn't a feeling. It's a choice," Luxord gripped his shoulder firmly. "It isn't easy. It's not meant to be. You choose to love someone with every word you speak to them, every action you take. You decide if what you will do will be from a place of love or not. Can't rely on feelings alone when they're not always there, eh?"

For Demyx, the concepts Luxord described were as complex as philosophy or theoretical physics. So far-fetched as to sound made-up, yet they made perfect sense. Zexion was upset. He didn't have room to feel anything other than that. But it was a temporary problem. That fear and anger would eventually melt away, and Demyx could only hope that when that time came, Zexion's feelings toward him would still be there, right where he'd left them. Surely their relationship couldn't have been so fragile as to dissolve after just one outburst. Hope was rapidly returning to him in beats and flutters in his chest, and for the first time in many days, Demyx felt just a hint of calm.

"Luxord?"

"Hm?"

Demyx stopped himself, unwilling to say too much and eventually settling on something far more simple. "Thanks."

Luxord threw an arm around his shoulders, smiling warmly. "You're quite welcome, my friend. And you know, Demyx, you may always discuss things with me, with Xigbar, with both of us if you wish," he shrugged, chuckling slightly. "You live with twelve other people, so what's the sense in trying to sort out your problems alone?"

Demyx nodded his agreement and picked up his sitar. "Is our shift up yet? We should get out of here."

Just as they rose to their feet, Luxord was certain that he heard a rustling of the nearby shrubbery. He whipped his hand in front of Demyx, protecting him from what he anticipated would be one of the dreaded sneak attacks they'd been warned about. The quaking of the leaves quickly halted, leaving behind an eerie silence. Still apprehensive, Luxord called out to the menacing stranger, hoping to gain the upper hand on their opponent.

"Oi! Who goes there?" he shouted intimidatingly. "We know you're watching us, now show yourself!"

The bush's twigs began trembling again, more and more violently until the leaves parted and out jumped their spy, startling them both with a frightened screech.

"Ah!" Demyx jumped back, nearly falling to the ground in his haste to escape. Luxord remained perfectly still, eyeing the creature curiously. It crawled on four limbs and had a long, thick tail of black and white rings. Its body was covered with gray fur, and the black circles around its eyes gave a masquerade-like appearance, as if the animal were seeking to conceal its identity.

"Well, well," Luxord said, more curious than anxious by now. "You're a strange fellow. I don't suppose you've come to attack us?"

The creature chirped, barreling toward him and climbing up his coat, sniffing every inch of him with its twitching little snout all the way.

"Ah…! Luxord! It's that cat thing Larxene was all mad about! The one with the rabies!"

"Now, Demyx, don't fret. This creature is no threat to us — he's merely curious."

The animal perched on his shoulder, looking expectant as it stared him down. Supposing that it perhaps wanted food, Luxord could only shake his head in defeat. "I'm sorry, mate, I've got nothing to offer you," upon seeing that the creature was unaffected by his rejection, he dug in his pockets, pulling out a card from one of the many decks he carried with him. "How about this, then? A present to remember us by?"

The animal snatched the card as soon Luxord presented it and darted off into the distance. With a heavy sigh of relief, Demyx cautiously approached his comrade, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Okay, he's gone. Let's leave before he comes back."

"I think we should follow him."

"What?!" Demyx hissed. "Are you crazy?!"

"Come, Demyx! Gambling with fate, remember? It's an adventure!"

Luxord was already in hot pursuit of the creature before Demyx could argue any further. Huffing in exasperation, he joined the chase, following several feet behind his comrade as they ran through the dense forest of pine. He couldn't begin to fathom why they were after this little pest. It was only a wild animal. It couldn't possibly have any leads on Vexen. Luxord must be acting on a hunch. Demyx knew him well — he'd weigh the chances of finding a clue against the risks, but ultimately, he'd go with his gut. No matter how high the stakes were, if his instincts told him to call, he'd call. Perhaps it really was just for the thrill of the chase. Maybe Luxord was just as curious as the creature, and just wanted to see his opponent's cards. If Luxord thought for even a moment that this little guy had something, he was going to fight for it.

Luxord had stopped by the time Demyx caught up and was observing with fascination as the creature added the card to a collection of trinkets and other belongings kept hidden in a shallow burrow. They caught a glimpse of several small items — a compass, a pipe, a pair of glasses, and many other little baubles. The creature retrieved a torn scrap of paper and scurried back to face the two men, presenting it to Luxord in its paws.

"Ah, what's this?" Luxord muttered gleefully, unfolding the page and squinting at the words.

"Wait, did that thing just _hand _that to you? How could he possibly know to—?"

"Demyx," Luxord gasped, pointing to the writing. "Look!"

—_technologically-advanced…aggressors in this conflict. …engaged in a territorial dispute with the intent of seizing valuable resources. …slaughtering…by the dozen, and will…_

_The natives, while…defense of their land, their customs, and their people.…weapons are crude, but their methods are rabid and vicious. …to kill, and they will do it quite slowly._

_Neither side takes many prisoners, and perhaps it is just as well. Those who find themselves in such a position do not live long._

The two gaped at the document in utter shock, momentarily speechless. The page was heavily damaged. The ink had worn away from the elements and the information therein was badly fragmented, but they recognized it immediately. There could be no mistake about to whom this paper had belonged.

"It's… It's a report from Vexen…" Demyx whispered with a shaking voice. "It's definitely his writing…"

"Indeed," Luxord stroked his beard in thought. "But how did it get into the hands of this feisty little brute?"

Before either of them could theorize any further, a tiny object came flying at their heads. They ducked out of the way, only for it to follow them wherever they went, emitting soft fluttering sounds with its rapidly beating wings. It moved so quickly that they could not identify whether it was a bird or an insect, but whatever it was, it was certainly alive, and it was quite angry about their presence.

"Luxord, this thing doesn't like us! We gotta go!"

"Right behind you. Let's get back to that clearing, quickly!"

Waving away the flying creature, they bolted, never once looking back to see if the masked animal was still there. When they had returned to the mourning tree and the gnarled roots by the pond, they collapsed onto the grass to catch their breaths. Too winded to speak, they said nothing for several moments as they rested on the ground, still processing the event in their minds. Neither of them had managed to voice a single one of the questions buzzing in their minds before Luxord was heard quietly giggling to himself.

"Luxord?" Demyx called out to him. "Are you laughing? What's so funny?"

He didn't answer, as the chortling quickly grew to full-voiced laughter. Clutching his sides and letting himself fall onto his back, Luxord's sudden episode was so contagious that Demyx couldn't help but start laughing alongside him. They went on for several minutes, rolling around on top of dried leaves, listening as their guffaws echoed through the woods around them. It had been so long — _so long — _since either of them had felt such elation, such relief. The Organization was in the middle of the craziest shit show they'd ever seen, but for the moment, they could only enjoy the intoxicating sensation of laughing until their sides were aching and tears streamed down their faces. It was like being high all over again, and they happily rode it out until it dissipated into sputtering giggles and heavy panting.

"See, Demyx…?" Luxord wheezed, holding up the shred of paper. "If you want something… you must fight for it… You can't win if you don't call…!"

A new clarity flooded Demyx's head in that moment. Luxord lived his entire life like a game of poker. He sought thrill and adventure in the art of gambling, oftentimes only looking to sate his curiosity. He was bold, but calculating, and with all his dignity and poise, he calmly accepted those times when he had to leave it all to chance. But never once did he stand idle while the cards passed him by. He was a player, not an observer.

Luxord's message was loud and clear. Now was the time to fight for what he wanted, and Demyx wanted Zexion more than anything.

"Luxord…" he heaved, still breathless from the laughter. "Let's go home."

* * *

Xigbar was just beginning to wonder what was taking the guy so long when his door finally slid open. "There's my man!"

Luxord stepped in, winded, sweaty, and covered in dirt. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

Xigbar hopped off the bed and planted a kiss firmly on the man's mouth. "How was your search today?"

His kiss was returned several times over, all along his jaw to his ear. Xigbar could hear the smile in the man's voice and was looking forward to what had to be an interesting story.

"It was quiet and uneventful."

"Bummer," he scoffed with a frown. He took Luxord's hands and led him to where he could sit down on the bed beside him, gently prodding into his shoulders and across his upper back with his thumbs. "How's Demyx?"

Unzipping his coat and pulling at a dull twinge in his neck, Luxord sighed. "The boy is troubled, but I think he will pull through."

"What is it?" Xigbar asked, slightly concerned as he paused the massage. "Is he okay?"

Luxord shook his head. "He won't share. But he wanted me to talk to him about us," he clasped his fingers around Xigbar's, bringing them to his lips and brushing a delicate kiss onto them. "So I told him the story of how we met."

Xigbar's face lit up in a most familiar way. Just the mere mention of that evening seemed to replay the sound of the up-tempo jazz music, the drumming in his chest as he danced himself into oblivion, and the sweet burn of whiskey on his tongue. "Aw, those were the days, weren't they?" he could already see the thrilling flash of numbers in Luxord's eyes as he inched toward him. "Watching you clean out a whole poker table…"

"Watching _you_ fail miserably at the slots…"

"Dancing until dawn…"

"Champagne and cigarettes…"

Every image evoked a new sensation. The shrill ringing of the machines as they spat out his winnings, the smoke and bubbles pouring down his throat, the heavy anticipation of turning over that last card. Xigbar had only enough time to set down his empty glass before the handsome fellow named Luxord drew him into a passionate kiss — the kind that turned his legs to jelly in a heartbeat. Whoever this man was, he knew _exactly _what he was doing, and Xigbar couldn't let such a perfect opportunity go to waste.

Luxord jostled him back to the present with a low, sultry whisper. "I still remember that first night with perfect clarity."

As he melted into a puddle in Luxord's arms, Xigbar giggled against his cheek. "Heh, I think I had a few too many."

"Then perhaps I should refresh your memory?"

"But Luxord," he grinned. "You're all dirty."

"I believe I can fix that."

Memories came back in bits and pieces, and they reminisced together in silence as Luxord pinned him against the shower wall. That evening at the casino was a blur, but Xigbar remembered how many times he wished he could just leave. It wasn't that he disliked the man he'd attended the tournament with, he just thought the guy was _boring. _He didn't dance, he never stayed out too late, he only drank beer. There was no sense of adventure in him. No fun. The tournament was _work, _and enjoying it would only break his concentration. It was no wonder Xigbar had let his eyes wander, and he could hardly contain himself when they settled on the burly stranger across the way. The one with the _huge _pile of chips — taller than anyone else's. The player, the alpha male, the king of the table. He was _so handsome. _Was he looking this way? Had he caught Xigbar staring?

He could tell the man was a romantic just seconds into their first conversation. As an acquaintance, the man named Luxord was eloquent and charming when he spoke. His words brimmed with genuine flattery and sophistication, and his silver tongue easily coaxed Xigbar out of his dull beau's arms. As a lover, he was affectionate in all the best ways, taking his sweet time, enjoying every detour just as much as the main event. Now, more than a decade into the future, he was almost saccharine in how tenderly he cared for his companion. Xigbar giggled playfully as the man leaned into the crook of his shoulder to kiss his neck, squirming and twitching in his grasp.

Luxord curiously raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

"Your beard," Xigbar laughed. "It tickles!"

Luxord smiled, meeting the man's mouth with his own. The fact that they could still be humorous when they made love, cracking jokes and fooling around, reminded him of what it was like to be young and lively. He found that although he'd missed those days, he no longer pined for them as he would for memories long gone. Age may have been hot on their heels, but the two were as exuberant as ever, and they had many more playful years to come.

_My _god, _he's good. _Was it the fact that the man had won every hand he'd played, or that he'd won Xigbar's heart in no time flat? Was it his skill with the cards, or his prowess with a man's body? This guy was _gifted._ Without ever having met before, Luxord knew exactly how to please him — the precise rhythm, the most sensitive locations, just the right amount of force, all of it with perfect accuracy. Even now, so many years later, his virtuosity never faltered. Luxord still bewitched him with that same charm that had lured him away from the table and up the stairs to his hotel room. His kisses still curled Xigbar's toes just as they did the first time. He still beckoned a series of gasps and moans from Xigbar's lips with every touch. If Xigbar didn't know any better, he'd swear he was human again. He hadn't felt this good since he'd had a heart.

In the steady motion of their dance together, Xigbar could feel the swaying of intoxication in his head as they gently rocked back and forth in that tiny hotel room, that cramped shower stall. Such a romantic gesture, he thought, for the man to take his time and to handle him so carefully. The thrusts of Luxord's hips were deep, but slow, almost cautious. It was only after the first finish that Xigbar learned the truth — as polite and gentlemanly as it seemed, Luxord had been expertly pacing himself. Xigbar gleefully observed as his resolve wavered a little more with every subsequent encounter, until the experience was positively _volatile _in its intensity_. _By the end of the night, Xigbar was convinced that it was _he _who had won the pot.

The water had long since grown cold, but neither man took any notice. Xigbar had his face to the heavens, basking in the ecstasy of his lover's warm presence against him, around him, inside him — listening to the sound of the man's heavy, ragged breaths in his ear. Luxord was always so quiet, only ever finishing with a long, satisfied sigh. But this time, Xigbar could hear the tantalizing sound of stifled, desperate whimpers emanating from his lips. Those soft tones against his neck, faint glimmers of his impending loss of control, were music to Xigbar's ears.

Luxord paused all motion when the pleasure overwhelmed him, and in the brief hiatus, they intensified their kiss, planting their lips anywhere they could reach until they were both left trembling with anticipation. "What's your status, love?" he breathed hoarsely, clenching the supple flesh of Xigbar's backside in his fists.

Xigbar chuckled in response. "What, you getting close already?"

Without a word, Luxord turned off the faucet and carried him to the bed where he tenderly laid him down like a bride on their wedding night. He gently planted a trail of kisses from his mouth all down his front side, sending tremors through Xigbar's body. The light press of Luxord's lips at his nipples, his navel, his hip, his thigh, were electrifying, shocking him at every point of contact. His delicate fingers dancing over his wet skin sent a chill down his nape. Just as he was about to beg the man to quit teasing and get back to the action, he jumped, shuddering at the sudden warmth of Luxord's tongue someplace it had never been. In his surprise, Xigbar gasped as his face began to flush a deep shade of crimson.

"_Luxord…!"_ he whispered, delightfully scandalized. "Since when do you…?"

Luxord grinned mischievously. "It's an adventure. I want to taste _all _of you."

"How romantic…" Xigbar moaned, instantly submerged in ecstasy as the man ravenously lapped at him in such a sinful spot. Luxord's lust for adventure was unmatched, and it should have been no surprise that he would go to such lengths to bring pleasure to his lover. He had always ensured that Xigbar was well taken care of. As equable as the man could be, there was a fierce protectiveness to him, as instinctive as that of an animal guarding its mate. He held his lover both gently and firmly, pressing their bodies tightly together with every embrace. His muscular build was not just for show. His grip was just strong enough to assert his dominance without causing any pain. He was attentive in his compulsion to treat his partner like royalty, much to Xigbar's chagrin, and his intentions were so genuine and thoughtful that it was _easy _and _natural _and _perfect _to love him.

As always, Luxord performed masterfully, tasting his lover like a delicacy, sampling him bit by bit and savoring every bite. The sweet caress of his tongue dragging in small circles sent a flutter through Xigbar's chest, and he reached down to tug at the man's curly, wet hair, barely able to remain still at the height of such euphoria. The divine wetness of having Luxord inside him in this way — drinking him in with such wanton hunger — weakened him with how beautifully intimate an act it was. Far be it from Xigbar to succumb to such emotional reactions, especially during sex, but if he'd had a heart, he might have burst into tears on the spot.

"Aw, man… You're driving me crazy…"

Luxord laughed against his thigh, soft and supple as it was between his lips. Feeling Xigbar quivering at his touch was fuel for his fire, and he ate up every raspy moan the man emitted. Nothing satisfied him more than pleasing Xigbar, and he stiffened as the man dug his fingertips into his scalp, knowing he was so shocked and entranced by his talent and his depravity that he could not restrain himself. Luxord couldn't help but reach between his legs, desperate to share in Xigbar's pleasure and join him at his peak. He spent several minutes below, ensuring that he wouldn't miss a single freckle, and soon he could see Xigbar's hips beginning to convulse, rolling and grinding into him in rhythmic pulses.

"Okay…" Xigbar whispered urgently. "Okay, babe, come back to me…"

"All caught up?"

Xigbar was speechless. He felt a low ripple spreading beneath his skin. There was an intense heat, followed by a vicious chill. His entire body heaved with his labored panting. Luxord climbed onto his knees and eased into him, hovering overhead and watching intently as his partner fell to pieces.

"Going to give me a show?"

"Ah hell, Luxord…"

"That's right," Luxord shot him a lustful smolder. "Come for me."

Xigbar didn't always fail at the slots. There was one unforgettable moment wherein he pulled the lever, watching the wheels spin with fierce and unblinking anticipation. To his bewilderment, the machine settled on triple sevens, spilling coins faster than he could catch them while sirens and whistles screamed into the air. In his excitement, he turned to boast to his partner, only to find Luxord standing in his place, wearing that same stunning smile he'd been flashing all evening. Xigbar's eye widened as the spasms in his muscles mounted to a staggering crest and burst in his core until he was drowning in bliss. Blinded by the pleasure sweeping through him, he stifled his cries of delight against Luxord's shoulder, thrashing in place beneath him and spilling just as vigorously over both of their bodies.

Luxord had always loved to watch the culmination of his efforts finally unfold beneath him. From that very first night all those years ago, he never tired of watching Xigbar crumble in euphoria, knowing just what it took to bring him there. With his objective complete, he could now look forward to his own climax. His entire demeanor changed instantly, and he commanded Xigbar with a much more authoritative cadence.

"Turn over."

"Mmm, I like when you get rough."

He could not place it, but something about being with Xigbar awakened a new vigor and vitality in Luxord. The moment he had the man on his knees, he indulged in the impatience and haste just this once and fervently plunged inside him. All at once he was wrapped up in the thrill of the chase. Chasing the high, the memories, the adventure into the unknown that was _love._ He galloped as fast as he could to that finish line, ready to fight for his prize if he had to — this one was worth fighting for. He'd raise the stakes until he had nothing left. He could never claim it if he let it get away.

The entirety of their relationship flashed behind his eyes as he neared the peak he'd been waiting for. Fifteen years of young love and wild infatuation growing into unyielding companionship and deep affection. Two foolish boys becoming reckless old men together. Placing their bets, winning and losing. Gambling with fate itself. From that first night at the casino and onward, from the butterflies, through the ache, all the way to the warmth, Luxord and Xigbar loved each other so fully and unapologetically — his only regret was that it had taken so long to realize that they'd never stopped.

Alas, the end was nigh, and Luxord had only seconds to live in that nostalgia before he would have to float back down to the surface. "Oh… Braig…"

"You gonna come?"

"Is this how you want it, love?"

"As long as you do that thing I like."

Happy to oblige, Luxord tightly wrapped his arms around Xigbar's torso and sank his teeth into his nape like a feral beast. The heavenly sounds of his voice moaning openly into the atmosphere were so enticing that he could hold back no longer, and at last he let everything go. With a resounding burst of ecstasy, the pleasure came crashing down on him like an avalanche, burying him in such bliss that he couldn't breathe. He was overwhelmed with joy, so blindingly bright that it flooded his world with happiness. He lost himself in love so potent that it could only have come from a heart. A burn sprang to his eyes, threatening to send tears down his face, and for once he resigned himself to them without a care for whether Xigbar would see. These emotions were far too strong, too real to be mere echoes. He had told Demyx that it was different to love without a heart, and that it was more a decision than a feeling. What he'd failed to realize was that he'd simply forgotten how it felt, and there at the height of his climax, he remembered.

With the pleasure having wound down at last, he released Xigbar and lay beside him, wiping the moisture from his face and panting heavily.

"You were holding that in _forever_," Xigbar chuckled. "Come here and give Daddy Xiggy a kiss."

They were reluctant to part for a long while afterward. They held each other tightly, almost frantically as they let themselves come down from the high together. Luxord was nearing the end of his last cigarette for the evening, and Xigbar was curled up in the crook of his arm, tracing shapes on his chest with his fingertips.

"So where did you learn to do _that?"_

"Military school."

Xigbar snorted. "You're shitting me."

"Not at all," Luxord insisted with a smirk. "It was a boarding academy for boys. The players on my own team were fun enough, but I discovered it was always the unwavering straight fellows who squealed the loudest."

"You dirty, dirty boy."

He flashed a winning smile, taking Xigbar's hand for kiss. "Not a one of them tasted nearly as sweet as you do."

Whether it was making him laugh with his parlor tricks, burning him up with the heat of his passion, or dazzling him with his enchanting smile, Luxord never failed to charm him. Xigbar swooned under his lustful gaze, buckling at the exquisite sound of his voice every time he leaned in to whisper sweet nothings in the dark. Xigbar could have stayed there for hours with the man pressed against his back, just listening to him breathe. But after some time, cursing the clock under his breath, he surrendered to the late hour and endeavored to sleep at last. He was just closing his eyes when he noticed Luxord still awake and staring contemplatively at the ceiling.

"What's on your mind, big guy?"

"Demyx."

"Still stuck on his weird mood?"

Luxord didn't respond right away. He was just fitting the pieces together in his mind. When they finally clicked in place, the picture shone was so poetic and beautiful that he couldn't keep it from Xigbar for one more second.

"I think Demyx is in love."

Xigbar gasped, shocked by the news. He really shouldn't have been — Demyx was a good kid and it was only a matter of time. Even as a Nobody, Xigbar knew that love was in his grasp. What stunned him was the idea that Demyx had fallen in love with someone _and he'd missed it._ He had seen all the signs, remembering how worried he'd been upon noticing that the boy was acting strangely, yet he hadn't put two and two together. When did he get so unobservant? Was he really such an old man already?

Smiling warmly, Xigbar made a silent wish for Demyx to enjoy the ecstasy of love while he was young and virile. Let him fall head over heels for someone, go on lavish dates and spoil each other rotten, sneak around in the night like a pair of rebellious teenagers, have all the fun a man with no heart can have. And whoever he'd chosen, Xigbar prayed that they would make the kid as happy as Luxord made him. Demyx deserved it.

"I hope he is."

* * *

Merry Christmas to you all! Thank you so much for continuing to read my very first story. It's been almost a year and I hope you've enjoyed the journey as much as I have! Much love from the author! 3


	26. Shades and Specters

"Lea, wake up."

Someone was nudging Axel's shoulder. It was a miracle that he could be awakened while in such a deep sleep. He could still feel the full effect of the narcotic painkillers, making his head swim with sedation. He was certain he'd been dreaming, but couldn't remember what any of it was about. His heavy eyelids fluttered open and he squinted into the face of Saïx hovering over him. "Hmm? Isa? What is it?"

"You must come to the lab at once."

Axel's stomach dropped. "Why? What happened? Is it Roxas?"

"Roxas is fine, but we must hurry."

Axel sprang out of bed as quickly as he could in his condition. More than a week had passed since the berserk incident and the injuries were healing very nicely, but his joints were still rather stiff and hard to control. With Saïx's gracious assistance, he slipped into his coat and they hurried out the door. It was still quite dark, and dawn was hours away. Axel longed to ask Saïx any one of the thousand questions that raced through his mind, but his still-mending ribs were already protesting the brisk pace of their trek to the lab. When they made it to the door and crept inside, they found Zexion working diligently on a computer console. He gasped softly at the sight of his visitors, but quickly relaxed when he recognized who had come. "You're here. Come inside."

They approached the desk and peeked over Zexion's shoulder at the documents he was studying. It was largely a jumbled mess of code that neither of them could understand.

"Alright, Zexion. What's this about?" Axel inquired, crossing his arms. "Saïx here may not sleep, but—"

"I have important information regarding the experiment. Something none of us could have predicted," the apprentice answered, rapidly typing commands into the keyboard. "Saïx here was snooping through some classified files in Xemnas' computer. He found some that were related to Roxas and the vessel."

Axel's jaw dropped and he turned to Saïx. "Isa, that was really risky…"

"It was worth it," Saïx insisted. "I'm not a scientist, so most of the data was beyond me. I had Zexion analyze it in secret."

Zexion nodded and pressed on. "I've been deciphering the code little by little every night. And what I've discovered is astounding…" he pulled up a lengthy document full of unfamiliar jargon, numbers, and other technical data that Axel didn't recognize. "Sabotage."

Axel stared at the screen, frozen. "What?"

"Xemnas sabotaged the experiment. He wanted this to fail from the very beginning."

Only moments ago, Axel's mind had raced with an endless stream of questions. He wondered if Roxas was well, he wondered if Vexen had been found, he wondered if his own injuries were more severe than they'd initially thought — there were a plethora of reasons Zexion could have summoned him at this hour, but this was not one he'd expected. And so, although his mind was filled with noise only seconds earlier, it was now eerily silent as it processed the news, completely devoid of thought in the face of such utter shock.

"But… why? Why would he authorize this project if he just wanted it to fail?"

Zexion began to scroll down the pages, releasing a long sigh as he skimmed through the material. "Some of the documents mention some old legends and historical counts regarding some Keyblade War, something about forging an ancient weapon, documents on extracting and manipulating light and darkness from people's hearts…"

"Yeah, okay, get to the point."

"First things first," he tapped a few keys and an image flashed on the screen. "Do you recognize this boy?"

Zexion had summoned a photo of a young boy standing in an unfamiliar location. Axel didn't have to look very long to have the answer to his question. The subject was wearing odd clothes that Axel had never seen, but his face and his hair made his identity quite obvious. "Well yeah, that's Roxas."

"No," Saïx shook his head. "Lea, that's Ventus."

Axel's jaw dropped. "Wh-What?"

"Think back. We met him when we were kids. You remember?"

It was as if the revelation wouldn't register. Axel's mind simply could not compute. "I— what? Isa, what are you talking about?"

Saïx took Axel's head in his hands, the stern look in his eyes laced with what Axel could only describe as desperation. "Think hard, Lea! The little stray puppy in the square, playing with a wooden keyblade. You sparred with him, he kicked your sorry ass, we all had a good laugh. I know you remember him!"

Saïx's urgent pleas seemed to unlock something in Axel's mind. He could see the very scenes the man had described. All at once, his head was bombarded with a high speed reel of images as memories came flooding back into his consciousness. His head throbbed with the sudden rush, and he hissed in pain, clasping at his temples and wavering with vertigo. "Ah…!"

A concerned Zexion reached out to stabilize him. "Axel—!"

"Don't," Saix waved an arm to halt his interference. "This happened to me, too. He's remembering."

The pain was dissipating and the hazy memories were clearing into vivid flashbacks. Back when they were Lea and Isa, readying themselves to join the apprentices, they happened upon a sad looking child with a strangely-shaped wooden sword. Lea was too sunny a boy to leave the poor kid like that. They _had _to cheer him up. He wasn't going to leave until he saw the boy smile.

_I'll see you when I see you. After all, we're friends now. Get it memorized._

"Ventus… H-How did we forget…?"

"I don't know," Saïx answered, crossing his arms as he thought to himself. "But I think Xemnas has a deeper connection to him than he's letting on. Why else would he go to such lengths to revive him?"

Axel stepped away from the screen, grimacing under the lingering ache in his head. So _that _was the heart they'd all been searching for. _That _was the keyblade wielder Xemnas wanted to duplicate. But why him? As far as Axel had known, he was just some kid. He didn't look like any hero or saint or royalty. It was anyone's guess what made him so special. An even greater mystery to Axel was the boy's appearance. He wasn't sure he even wanted to know why Ventus looked like Roxas, even less so what that meant for his best friend. Potential answers swirled about in his head, each more foreboding than the last, and he swallowed down the sudden onset of nausea in time for Zexion to end the hiatus.

The scientist cleared his throat, clicked a few buttons and gestured to the screen once more. "I've managed to recover some old documents that Xemnas had encrypted. These, in particular, were rather… enlightening."

Axel didn't budge from his spot across the room. "I don't want to read them."

"Lea," Saïx insisted. "This is important."

The two shared a stern glare. Axel might have won if he had any desire, but he was in no mood for conflict. With a defiant huff, he broke the standoff and sauntered to the console with his arms folded. He leaned in and skimmed through the document, a report written by the Superior himself.

_Report - Replica Program - Date: XO_

_Vexen wants to attempt yet another replica experiment, similar to the power siphon from the previous model. This unit will be designed to absorb memories it is programmed to target, and Vexen claims that it will seek out hearts that have lost their way. I do admit some trepidation. Vexen's last replicas all became corrupt and were subsequently deactivated. I decided that it was in the Organization's best interests to terminate the program altogether, but curiosity and intrigue are rapidly getting the better of me._

_Since allowing Naminé and her "wise" friend to take Sora, we race against the clock in reclaiming the stray memories. If any of those memories remain within the castle walls, it is imperative that we collect them before our foes get to them. At first, the memories were merely a trail of breadcrumbs I'd hoped would guide us to Ventus once and for all, but with this new model of replica, I may have found the workaround I have been searching for. It is my hope that with those memories, and the data I've recovered, we can reconstruct the heart of Ventus entirely inside Roxas himself. If successful, our search would be over, and we would no longer have any need for a replica body — Roxas already has one. We would have no further use for Sora, and would happily release him with our blessing. The boy has been a dry well all along._

_What remains to be seen is the extent of the damage to Ventus. His heart was fractured, but I have the means to replace the missing piece, and Roxas and the scientists would be none the wiser. I can make quick work of it. I've no shortage of darkness now. All I require is an opening. If we are successful in reviving Ventus, then we are one step closer to restoring ourselves. The costs be damned._

"'Missing piece?'" Axel questioned, slightly disturbed by some of the language in the document. "I don't get it."

"From what I've been able to interpret, Ventus' heart was fractured somehow. Then, some time later, his heart and his body were lost. I suppose Xemnas has the missing fragments and intends to put them back."

"And how is he gonna do that?"

Zexion lowered his eyes. "Your guess is as good as mine, I'm afraid…"

Despite all the new information, Axel was left with more questions than answers. Zexion, looking increasingly apprehensive, minimized the page and pulled up a second report, which Axel read carefully and with much reluctance.

_Report - Replica Program - Date: OO_

_The engagement has commenced._

_It has been nineteen weeks since the vessel was placed inside Roxas. Although the boy remains in relatively fair health, the experiment has been quite taxing. The mission at Castle Oblivion was not successful - Roxas collapsed a short while after entering and remained unconscious for some time afterward. Since then, he has been restricted to bed and continues to show symptoms of physical distress. As pitiable as it is, I believe I am witnessing the answer to my prayers. The heart of Ventus must have been found, and is now met with the missing piece I inserted all those weeks ago._

_My comrades continue to exhibit signs of a reawakening of their latent emotions. In an organization of heartless men, I have seen anger, fear, sadness, and even romantic inclinations arise from what were once empty husks. I can only hypothesize that it is a side effect of the experiment, although I do not have an explanation for such a phenomenon. A number of my subordinates have expressed concern for Roxas - heated arguments have become an almost regular occurrence in our morning meetings. Despite the setbacks, I press onward. A breakthrough is on the horizon, and we cannot interrupt this miracle when the ultimate reward is practically in our grasp._

_All we can do now is wait, yet I find myself growing impatient. There is much at stake. Without the clash, we will not have our key to humanity. Nevertheless, for the first time in many years, I feel a glimmer of hope. At last, my life's work will come to fruition inside this young keyblade wielder I've collected into my ranks. Roxas may not survive, but his sacrifice will not be in vain. He is the most worthy vessel of all. Kingdom Hearts, do not fail us now._

Without a word, Axel stepped away from the console and sank into a chair at the other end of the room with his head in his hands. He had questions. He had answers. It all made perfect sense, and yet it didn't. How could he have been so naive? Roxas was the vessel all along. The illness, the pain, the deterioration, the suffering — it was all part of Xemnas' plan. Roxas _was_ the experiment, and he was never meant to survive it.

From the moment they'd all lost their hearts and become Nobodies, the Organization had only one goal: to regain their hearts and become human again. They'd performed dozens, maybe hundreds of experiments in the past decade, each of them a failure, all in the interest of getting their hearts back. Axel and Saïx had been test subjects for a number of harrowing trials over the years. Some were painful. Some were frightening. Some showed real promise. Not one of them was successful.

Now, Xemnas was convinced he'd done it. Somehow, _this _was going to return their hearts to them at last. This was how they'd reclaim their humanity. Everything they'd worked for, their one shared purpose, and now, Axel wanted no part in it. Not at such a steep price. If it meant that he would lose Roxas, Axel didn't want a heart at all.

He could hear footsteps approaching, but didn't look up to see who they belonged to. Someone laid a hand on his back and he flinched, shrugging them off.

"Lea," the voice of Saïx whispered. "Please, listen."

Zexion spoke up after a brief pause. "This all looks grim. I understand that. But I'm not giving up yet."

Axel said nothing, only quietly listening as he was asked.

"Nothing is certain. We might still lose him," Zexion continued. "But if there's even a small chance to get Roxas out of this in one piece, I'm going to take it."

When Axel was still silent in response, Saïx brought the discussion to its conclusion. "Getting Vexen back is our only hope. He's the only one who could find a way around this."

Amidst all the theorizing and the explanations and the comforting sentiments, Axel still did not speak a word. He couldn't. He clenched his fists, biting his lip instead. His task was clear. However this experiment ended, he would not falter in his role as the sturdy anchor Roxas needed. He would not break. Not when his friend was counting on him to be strong — for both of them. He would keep his chin up. He would get by, living on long talks and short laughs. Ice cream and sunsets. Memories of the past and dreams of the future. It was all too little, but it would have to be enough.

He rose from his chair, offering at least a nod of acknowledgement to the others before heading for the door. Saïx reached for him, taking his sleeve. This time, Axel did not wrestle away, instead turning to look the man in the eye. There he was again. Isa. Staring at him with something far deeper than pity. Ten years ago, Axel might have dashed into his arms, embraced him tightly, cried into his shoulder. But tonight, he only sighed and dropped his head.

Saïx turned to the young apprentice. "Zexion," he ordered. "Go to bed."

"But shouldn't I—?"

"You've been up all night and you look like hell. You can finish this tomorrow."

Zexion gulped audibly, wringing his hands. "Alright. You'll have a report from me as soon as possible."

Saïx nodded. "Be careful."

The two stepped into the hallway and began the slow trek back to Axel's room. Axel still hadn't spoken a word, too drained to even think. Saïx was holding his hand. He'd barely noticed. He should have been stunned by the gesture, moved by the show of affection, but in his relentless bout of sorrow, Axel lacked the capacity to care at all. It wasn't like it meant anything now. It wasn't like the man was going to drop to his knees and confess his undying love for him. They were Nobodies. They had no hearts, and they couldn't feel anything. This sadness that weighed so heavy in Axel's gut was just a falsehood, and it was high time he found some comfort in that.

They'd only made it a few feet down the hallway when Saïx stopped walking, and Axel right along with him. "Lea," he muttered softly. "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything."

In an uncharacteristic show of obedience, Saïx honored his request. Axel welcomed the space to think, yet found the silence unsatisfying, even more aggravating than the empty reassurance he might have expected in its place. He turned to his companion, posing a question to which he already knew the answer. "Are we gonna tell Roxas about this?"

There was a long pause ahead of Saïx's forlorn response. "That would only frighten him more."

Axel wasn't surprised. He wasn't disappointed. He wasn't angry. He slumped his shoulders, searching inward for the strength to accept the reality of the situation, imploring the universe to send him some reinforcement. He could feel Saïx's eyes on him, watching him struggle with despair and hopelessness he knew were fake, yet couldn't ignore no matter what he did.

"If there was anything I could do…"

"I know," Axel squeezed his hand. "Thanks, Isa."

Axel was certain at that point that Saïx would leave him be, but the man stood right where he was, having not moved a muscle. They hovered there in the corridor, still connected at the fingers, the space between them closing rapidly with every second. For once, Axel didn't question whether it was appropriate to kiss him now. There were no doubts and no worries, no baggage weighing them down. He didn't have to second guess whether or not it felt right to do. He didn't care why either of them wanted this. The expectant look on Saïx's upturned face gave him all the answers he needed. Axel approached somewhat hesitantly, testing the waters, but meeting no resistance as he took the man's lips with his own. It was a welcome release to let themselves linger, even knowing someone could come down the hall and discover them any moment. They basked in the nostalgic glow of those days when they didn't have to hide anything, when they weren't a forbidden secret. Axel delicately laced his fingers through Saïx's hair, sweeping it away and admiring the face concealed behind it. Isa's face. Blushing like it did back then. His eyes glossed over with adoration. He should have told the man that he was beautiful. He should have told him a thousand times before tonight.

Axel could have let the kiss go on forever, but Saïx broke it off, taking a step back and seeming troubled by the encounter. His posture seized up immediately as he folded his arms across himself, guarded and trepidatious. Axel laid a hand on his shoulder, and while he didn't flinch, he didn't lean into it like he had a moment ago.

"Isa, what's wrong?"

Saïx visibly battled with his response. "I made a terrible mistake… all those years ago."

Axel smiled warmly. "We both did."

"That's not what I meant," he shrugged out of Axel's grasp and began to pace. "I was deceived."

"What do you mean?"

Saïx had torn off a glove and was pressing his fingers into his forehead with a grimace. His pacing had halted and he stood completely frozen, growing more agitated by the second. After a tense beat of silence, he sighed, shaking his head. "It's not important. Goodnight, Lea."

"Isa, wait," Axel caught him by the wrist as he turned to go. "Don't do this again."

Saïx had things to say. Axel could see the words on his tongue, screaming to be heard, yet the man didn't speak a single one of them. The message crept into his expression, in his furrowed brow, his clenched jaw and his sad eyes. Even as Axel framed his face with his hands, leaning into his forehead, pleading for a connection, Saïx only pursed his lips.

"Whatever it is, Isa, it's hurting you," Axel implored him. "Please, talk to me."

Saïx squeezed his eyes shut, trembling with the effort of containing the words he longed to say. "I can't."

"You can tell me anything."

"Please," he breathed, taking Axel's wrists and freeing himself from his grasp. "Keep your distance. It's for your own good."

Before Axel could respond, Saïx summoned a dark corridor and disappeared into thin air, leaving him with only the questioning voices in his mind to stave off the loneliness. Staring at the space where his old friend had stood, Axel spent the quiet moments reflecting. He thought he knew Saïx better than anyone in the Organization. There was nothing he could not intuit, nothing the man could keep from him. He was a terrible liar, and most of the time, Axel could read him like a book. It was plainly obvious that the man was troubled, more so than Axel had ever seen him. From what he could remember, it began the morning after they'd made love. Or perhaps even earlier. During the encounter itself. Axel racked his brain. No, it was even before that. The berserk incident — that was when Saïx truly began to change, visibly and dramatically. Axel supposed the man felt bad about the attack, but that explanation simply did not suffice. This was deeper, stronger, and more painful than ordinary guilt.

Axel stepped over to the window, gazing up at the Kingdom Hearts moon looming overhead. Xemnas' pride and joy — the Organization's saving grace. That damned rock floating in the sky was responsible for more suffering than it was worth. Saïx always said he could hear the euphoria of the hearts collected up there. He called it exhilarating. But Axel knew better. He knew the man could hear more than just bliss, whether he chose to listen or not. Anger built inside Axel's core. That moon was the wedge that was driven between them. That moon was what changed Saïx from the man he used to be into the monster he eventually became, and now that he showed real promise in reverting back to his old self, that damned moon reached out and sank its claws into his will, dragging him back into the depths. Trapping him just out of Axel's reach. Drowning him.

Seething, Axel raised a fist and was ready to throw it through the window with all his weight when he heard an unexpected voice behind him.

"Oh, Axel, I thought you'd gone to bed," Zexion approached, tilting his head curiously. "Are you okay? Did you need something?"

Axel took a moment to read his face. The poor kid. He looked so tired. Much like Saïx, the young apprentice had a weighty look about him, a plethora of emotions concealed behind the veil of weariness and stress. Smiling for his sake, Axel slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Only your company."

Zexion flashed a meek smile of his own, barely masking the fatigue in his eyes. "You're welcome to walk with me. But I'm afraid I won't be very good company."

"Is something wrong?"

He didn't answer, and he didn't need to. It was written all over his face. All at once, Axel remembered that day when he walked into the square with Isa and happened upon that sad little boy with the wooden sword. The stray puppy who needed a hand up and out of his slump, a little light to outshine the darkness.

"You want to talk about it?"

Zexion's eyes were fixed on the ground as he muttered his response. "It was my fault…"

Axel wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading the way while they walked. "Tell me what happened."

They made it all the way to the first corner before Zexion had finally summoned the courage to speak. "When I heard that Vexen disappeared, I… I don't know, I think I panicked. Demyx was pressing me and I just… snapped."

Axel nodded understandingly. "You were upset. That kind of thing is normal."

"But I took it out on Demyx. Now I don't know how to talk to him… I don't know what to say…"

"You should say you're sorry."

Zexion sighed heavily. "I don't think that would be enough…"

"I do," Axel insisted. "You had a little spat. It happens. Couples fight all the time. But the ones who were meant to be together always make up afterwards."

They'd reached the staircase and began their slow climb. To Zexion, Axel was an expert in this department. There was so much wisdom behind his words that the apprentice could not help but eat it all up. The word 'couple' was still such a jarring term when used in reference to him and Demyx, but at the same time, it felt very right to call themselves one. Did this mean that they were meant to be together, like Axel described? Or were they just wasting their time fooling themselves into believing they could feel as happy as they did without hearts?

"Axel," he spoke up apprehensively, hoping to give voice to at least one of the million questions in his mind. "I feel this _ache_ when I'm with him. I can't describe it. It's so intense… and I don't recognize it at all."

_Well, I'll be… _"I sure do," Axel grinned. "And I think you should tell him that, too."

"What if he doesn't forgive me?"

Axel gave him a friendly pat on the back. "If I'm reading the two of you right, I think he will. I'm pretty sure he feels the same '_ache' _that you do."

Finally, Zexion's face lit up just a touch. "You really think so?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely," Axel assured him. "He'll come right around and it'll be like your little fight never happened."

Zexion took a moment to ponder Axel's advice, at last lifting his head with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Axel."

They had reached Zexion's door just as their conversation came to its natural conclusion. All things considered, Axel was pleased with the discussion, having decided that even if his own love life was in shambles, he could at least help his younger friend out with his. He'd known Zexion since they were kids, and a ten years ago, he might have assumed the little scientist would be a hopeless case as far as relationships were concerned. He was always a loner, always shy, never one for charisma or extroversion, and his nose was always buried in a book that seemed far too advanced for a boy his age. But now, it filled Axel with a sense of pride, accomplishment, and _relief_ to know that his less-than-kind judgments from back then were wrong. His sociability notwithstanding, Zexion was a good guy, and he deserved to enjoy this flavor of ecstasy as much as any of them. And so, Axel endeavored to happily nurture this budding relationship with all the love and care a wise older brother could provide.

He yawned widely and was preparing to take his leave when a thought struck him. "Zexion, are you a hugger?"

"A what?"

"You know, hugs," he repeated. "Do you do that sort of thing?"

"I… I guess I… I mean, I don't—"

"Alright, come here."

Axel didn't give him any more warning than that before he threw his arms around his shoulders and enveloped him in a deep embrace. For a moment, Zexion wasn't sure how to react. He stood rigid, his arms locked at his sides. Axel was squeezing him, not so tightly as to be painful, not so much that he couldn't breathe, but just enough to give him a rather pleasant sense of warmth and closeness. The whole experience was peculiar in how foreign it was. Of course Zexion had been hugged before, but this one was very different. Ordinarily, he supposed he might have felt uncomfortable, but for some reason, there was no awkwardness in the sudden affectionate lapse in composure for either of them.

The longer they stood there, the deeper they seemed to connect. Zexion could feel Axel's emotions as if they radiated through his skin. They were exceptionally potent, so intense that it was a wonder the poor man didn't collapse under the weight of them all. It was then that he understood what a hug was for — to let someone else carry that burden, if only for a few seconds. Zexion closed his eyes and relaxed into it, eventually slipping his own arms around Axel's back and reciprocating the gesture. To his surprise and dismay, his own emotions seemed to make a sudden mad dash to the forefront of his consciousness, each competing for command of his full attention. They were too loud. Too heavy. They were smothering him. Panicking, he buried his face in the man's coat and shut them out just as his eyes welled up.

_Right on cue. _Axel squeezed Zexion a little tighter the moment he felt him crumble. He often forgot how easy it was to relate to the young apprentice. Zexion was still just a kid, losing people left and right just like he had. Falling in love, getting hurt, growing up — he needed a big brother now more than ever, and Axel embraced that role without a second thought. This was what he was made for, where he felt most comfortable. Maybe Zexion wasn't the type to be cheered up by a sparring match, and maybe Ventus wasn't the hugging sort, but if Axel could leave anyone in a better state than when he found them, he figured he was doing all right. If he wasn't going to have any of his own life in order, the least he could do was hold someone else together when they were ready to fall apart.

Never once did they question how this was possible without hearts. What they felt in that moment was as real as it would ever be, and that was satisfying enough of a conclusion for them. Before he got a little too invested and lost all control, Axel loosened his grasp and the two parted, looking significantly more relieved.

"There. You feel better?"

"Th-That…" Zexion stammered a bit before regaining his composure. "That was nice."

"Well, I really needed it, and it seems like you did too," Axel grinned. "So, thanks, pal."

Some time after they bid each other goodnight, Axel lay in bed, waiting to drift away, taking the time to reminisce in the hopes that his dreams might be pleasant. He had no desire and no energy to ruminate, instead clinging to those happy memories he held so dear. That playful battle from all those years ago. Ventus' competitive smile, Isa's quick wit, the flutter of anticipation in his chest as he gazed up at the castle spires. On that day, he told his friend he was immortal, and he believed every word. Axel knew better now, having grown older and wiser and a little more pessimistic, but deep inside, he would always carry around a little piece of that rambunctious youth who vowed to live forever in people's memories.

Thoughts of Roxas came to the forefront of his mind, and he fought away the impulse to become sad. It was too late for regrets. What was done was done, and the best thing he could do for his friend was hold onto hope, no matter how faint a glimmer it was. Roxas could still make it. There was always a chance. And, even if he were to be lost, Roxas, too, would live forever in his memories. Immortal. From then on, Axel would endeavor to create as many of those memories with him as possible with the time they had left. He'd forgotten Ventus, but he would not forget Roxas for as long as he breathed. With that resolution in place, Axel could finally let himself fall asleep, knowing that the first thing he was going to do in the morning was hug Roxas as tightly as he could, and never, ever let him go.

* * *

I think we all need a hug after reading a story like this one.

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Ostelan


	27. Playing with Fire

It is said that staring at one spot long enough will cause the image to slowly warp into something unrecognizable. Whether it's a trick of the eyes or the brain, Roxas wasn't certain, but he hoped those words were true as he stared at his misshapen body in the mirror. His abdomen was swollen and unsightly. Crawling across his stretched skin were deep purple lines. He no longer had a navel. His back was severely bent in order to accommodate the weight imbalance. He was pale, and his limbs were thinner than they were before this all began. He looked disgusting, he felt disgusting, and he hated looking at his reflection more than anything.

The creature thrashed and wriggled inside him at random intervals, knocking the wind out of him and making him feel sick. It made unreasonable demands on him, punishing him if he did not relent. Carrying it was exhausting and at times painful. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent night's sleep. He had grown to hate the thing for the discomfort it caused, and lamented that there seemed to be no end in sight for this horrendous condition he suffered.

On Zexion's recommendation, Saïx had ordered him on bedrest for the remainder of the creature's stay inside his body, but with some convincing from Axel, Roxas was able to strike a deal with the two of them, gaining the privilege of walking about the castle and the occasional supervised visit to the clock tower. In exchange, he was required to be examined daily instead of weekly. The results never seemed to change, but Roxas held up his end of the bargain so that he could enjoy the precious few freedoms he had left. Still, the isolation quickly got old. The searing white aesthetic of the castle's interior wore on his tired eyes just like Castle Oblivion had. The stale air left him feeling just as drained and sickly. And any time he was out of bed, he could never manage to find some space to be alone. Thus, Roxas spent almost every waking hour in his room, wary of Saïx's intrusive eyes watching him as if waiting for him to explode. Roxas had a very large and luxurious prison cell, but it was a prison cell nonetheless.

With a heavy sigh, Roxas reached into his closet to pull out his coat. It struck him then without warning. Intense pain in his abdomen, fierce enough to freeze him in place. He doubled over, gasping for breath as a sickening sensation of crushing pressure clenched inside him. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but it was the strongest one yet. He never knew what to do other than wait it out, quietly counting the seconds and promising himself that this one wouldn't kill him. He closed his eyes, trying not to panic, thinking of Axel and sea salt ice cream and the clock tower. Pleasant thoughts. Deep breaths.

The pain only lasted for a minute or so before it dissipated, just like they always did. As intense as they could get, Roxas took comfort in knowing that they were at least short-lived. Though shaken by the unexpected spasm, he endeavored to put his worries out of his mind and go about his day. He pulled his coat over his head, adjusted the zipper and donned his gloves, then took one last look in the mirror when he was fully dressed. The dark coat concealed the appearance of his belly quite well, as long as he didn't turn to the side. He almost looked normal — like he used to look. To his delight, if only for a moment, Roxas could stare at his reflection and pretend there was nothing wrong with him. But even he knew it was too good to be true.

He left his room and meandered aimlessly down the halls of the castle, taking his sweet time getting to the lab for his daily exam. He was so tired of going in there. The metal table was cold. Zexion's hands were cold. The instruments were cold. The entity jumped whenever Roxas got cold. He sauntered as slowly as he could until finally, he had reached the door to the lab. Unable to procrastinate any longer, he entered, surprised to see Zexion talking to Saïx inside. _Great…_

"Roxas!" The conversation between the two men ended abruptly upon Roxas' arrival, and Zexion seemed quite flustered as he greeted him.

Roxas fidgeted in the doorway. "You're busy. I can come back…"  
"No, no, Roxas, we're wrapping up here," Zexion shuffled some papers around his desk, appearing to search for Roxas' file. "In fact, Saïx wanted to talk with you anyway."

"What did I do this time?"

Saïx spoke up from the shadows. "The situation in Agrabah has become critical. I would have liked to put this off until after Vexen was found, but the giant Heartless is wreaking havoc on the town. It must be exterminated immediately. You and your keyblade are needed."

Roxas couldn't help but notice that Saïx was not looking at him as he relayed the news. In fact, he'd averted his eyes the moment Roxas entered the room and avoided visual contact even after he'd explained the mission. It was a welcome change from his constant unsolicited supervision, yet Roxas could sense an uneasiness in him that he'd not seen before.

"Saïx…" he answered resolutely. "I won't let you down."

A heavy pause followed Roxas' promise. He could feel a change in the atmosphere during that beat of silence. It was becoming a regular occurrence to sense fear and discomfort in his presence, but this particular instance was something else entirely. The tension in the air was positively suffocating, and Roxas wondered with bafflement just which of these men was responsible for the thick cloud of anxiety that filled the space around them, blinding them, smothering them. Was it Zexion, the level-headed aide who could lull one to sleep with his voice alone? Was it Saïx, the stone cold supervisor whose composure couldn't be broken? Was it both of them?

Saïx eventually responded with a solemn nod and turned to the young apprentice. "Zexion, examine him."

"All right, Roxas. You know the drill."

Roxas climbed onto the exam table and lay down, as was the routine. In full view of Saïx, Zexion unzipped his coat and began the examination, pressing into his belly with his predictably cold hands. The creature lurched, as expected, to which the apprentice only giggled and jotted down some notes. He collected his arsenal of tools to scan his patient and began cycling through them one-by-one, each instrument more frigid than the last.

"Anything new going on here?"

Roxas pursed his lips. He hadn't told a soul about the pains — not even Axel — lest he be forced back into bedrest and lose the last shred of liberty he had. He could feel that same tension in the atmosphere rising with every passing second of dead silence. He couldn't avoid the question forever. He had to say something. As if on cue, another spasm fired up in his core, the pressure gripping him with yet another painful clench. He hissed, gripping the sides of the table as his body seized up, startling both Zexion and Saïx with the sudden attack.

"Roxas?" the apprentice leaned over him. "Are you okay?"

Roxas couldn't answer but for a low groan, squeezing his eyes shut and summoning back those uplifting images in his mind. He could feel Zexion's hands digging into him, searching for a cause, but finding none, they were laid on his shoulders.

"Alright. Just relax," he instructed in a lowered voice. "Breathe… breathe slowly, Roxas."

Roxas didn't realize he was hyperventilating until Zexion brought it to his attention. He opened his eyes, staring the apprentice in the face. As he tried to match the rhythm of his breaths, Roxas noticed an eerie sense of calm radiating from him. Where he could feel Saïx's anxiety skyrocket from across the room, he sensed no trepidation from Zexion whatsoever. He figured it was just the man's special talent, always so poised in the face of extreme stress. More so than any of his heavy breathing, that brief glimpse of his perfectly relaxed demeanor was enough to settle Roxas' nerves until the pain began to fade away.

"There, that's good," Zexion praised him. "Looks like it's coming down now."

The spasm ended and Roxas' muscles released with a cascade of shudders. He was catching his breath, casting his gaze away from the piercing eyes of his comrades in a futile attempt to escape the questions he could hear burning in their thoughts. Zexion hadn't let go of him, keeping his hands in place until the shivering stopped. He finally broke the uncomfortable silence with the very question Roxas was expecting he'd ask.

"Roxas, has that happened before?"

It was several seconds before Roxas finally relented with a long exhale. "Yes. They come at random. It's been a few days now…"

To his relief, there was no anger in either of them. He caught sight of Saïx's head dropping into his hand, his fingertips prodding at his forehead. Zexion appeared to almost cringe, troubled by the revelation, but not surprised. "Do you remember when the last one was?"

Roxas scratched his head. "Uh… I was getting dressed. Maybe an hour ago?"

Rather than react, Zexion picked up his clipboard and scribbled down more notes as he wrapped up the examination. He gave Roxas the all clear to put his coat back on, assisting him as he propped himself back upright. "Okay, Roxas. Everything looks fine here. I want you to keep an eye on those pains, okay? Keep track of when they happen, take note of what you were doing at the time. Let's see if we can't figure out what's causing them."

"I'll do my best."

Saïx stepped forward out of his shadowy corner. "Roxas, you may go and wait in the Grey Area. We will follow you shortly."

Roxas hopped down from the table with a nod. "Yes, sir."

The two men watched him leave in tense silence, certain that he could feel their eyes as he walked out the door of the lab. The moment he was gone, Saïx prompted the apprentice. "Talk to me."

Zexion laid down his clipboard with a clatter and a heavy sigh. "He's having contractions, Saïx."

Saïx froze. "Is that what that was?"

"Yes," Zexion replied. "And it looked pretty intense."

The answer was nothing short of appalling. The implications — the direct indications — were downright vile. "Then… Xemnas' ridiculous plan might actually work."

"Most likely."

"How long do we have?"

Zexion shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know. It could start any time now."

"And then what?"

"You know how it all works."

Saïx meandered off toward his corner again, thinking. It was a subject he would never have any use for, and he knew very little, but enough. It was clear by now that it no longer mattered whether or not Roxas was properly equipped. The creature inside him would come when it wanted to, it would choose its own path, and there would be no stopping it. To think that the entity would attempt an exit so violent and gruesome turned his stomach. There had to be another way. Any option would have been better than the one Roxas would have to face instead. If they didn't interfere, then whatever sort of birth process that creature had in store, Saïx couldn't see how Roxas would survive it.

"How deep in it are we, Zexion?"

"We're drowning in it."

Saïx's feelings on the matter had far surpassed repulsion. Now, he was truly disturbed. Pity wasn't enough. Sympathy wasn't enough. No sentiment that he could summon from the depths of his memories would be adequate. He couldn't find sadness or anger to fit the situation. Outrage on behalf of the boy, the _victim, _didn't feel honest. Saïx could search himself all afternoon, but it would never come to him. All he could feel now was _sick._

What would he tell Axel? How would the man react to the news? What would he do if Roxas were to be lost? Would he leave the Organization? What would become of them then? Saïx could hear Xemnas' warnings, his threats. Disembodied voices whispering to him from the inside. From the space where his heart used to be. He winced at a sudden painful stab in his chest, clutching the front of his coat.

"Saïx," Zexion had come closer and laid a hand on his arm, gently, nervously. "Do you want to talk?"

In truth, he did. There were a million things he would have liked to say, and a million more that he wanted — _needed_ to hear. "I can't," he shook his head, defeated. "I'm sorry."

According to the reports, Xemnas was aware of the emotional reawakening of his comrades. They could hide nothing from him, and that truth was never more evident than it was right then. His theory that it was a result of his experiment was intriguing at the very least, and terrifying at the very most. If that were the case, then the emotions — the anger, the fear, the bliss, the 'romantic inclinations' — would they all be lost? Saïx looked to the young apprentice, not at all surprised to see how he, too, was affected. The boy wore it all on his sleeve, an all-too-familiar pain that Saïx wouldn't have wished upon his worst enemy. It was more than likely that Zexion was the one who wanted to talk. But as much as Saïx pitied him, there simply wasn't time for a heart to heart now.

"Come," he waved the apprentice along as he headed for the door. "I want you on call. The instant something goes wrong, they're instructed to bring him back. I'll need you close by to handle him the moment he sets foot back in this castle."

Zexion nodded hesitantly. "I'll bring all the necessary equipment. Let's just hope I don't have to use it…"

Saïx wondered just where Xemnas might be right now. What he might be doing while his underlings scrambled like rats in the maze he built for them. Was he on the roof, celebrating, thanking the moon for its graces? Was he locked away in his study, twirling his moustache and cackling maniacally? Neither seemed to fit his brand of evil, if his actions could even be called that. One could not argue that the Superior took any delight in the suffering of his own subordinates — he merely looked the other way when fate presented him with the choice to stop it or let it continue. The passive route, as always. The path of non-interference.

His reports spoke of breakthroughs and miracles, the key to humanity, an ultimate reward. But such uplifting language was speckled with words like impatience and sacrifice. Xemnas was letting the experiment run its course, tapping his foot and checking his watch, watching Roxas deteriorate all according to his plan and calling it an answer to his prayers. Were that truly the case, Saïx shuddered to think what the Superior could be praying for. Even with all the information they'd uncovered, they could only speculate on just who or what the man had created. Be it man or monster, its hostile nature had been asserted with growing volume. Sending Roxas on this mission today would certainly upset the beast, and Saïx could almost guarantee that he'd see the boy brought back in pieces.

But, alongside everything, the reports mentioned hope. It was such an odd thing to hear from the Superior, yet not surprising in the least. A Nobody could hope just as much as any human could, just as a Nobody could have wishes, desires. A Nobody could long for something, just as they all longed for their hearts. As a whole, they carried the same hope that their humanity would be returned to them some day, even if that hope was misguided and empty. But for the moment, hope was the only thing Saïx could grasp. When he could do nothing else, he would simply have to hope that this mission would not spell the end for Roxas. That Vexen might be found before it was too late. That the creature would be coaxed out of Roxas at last, and perhaps it would spare its host in the process.

It was no use wishing on the Organization's behalf, hoping for the completion of Kingdom Hearts. What good would come from regaining their hearts if they would not be free to embrace them? Saïx let himself indulge for a moment. Let himself be selfish, to just hope for his own sake. He could hope that Xemnas would develop the same doubts as the rest of them. That he would remember all the other victims he'd made of his comrades, and would endeavor not to create any more. Saïx could hope that the Superior would loosen his shackles — on Roxas, on the others, on himself. That he would grant them that freedom at last. He hoped that a day would come when they could put this whole mess behind them, and that Axel might still be there on the other side, waiting for him when they did.

* * *

Roxas had performed more giant Heartless exterminations than he could count. He'd been to Agrabah dozens of times with several different Organization members. He knew the terrain, he knew the climate, he knew their target, and he knew his objective. This mission was typical, right up his alley, and yet it was anything but routine. There were stakes this time. There was risk involved. And today, Roxas dared to let himself feel excited to be going.

"I trust you are all aware of your objective?"

Saïx had just finished explaining the operation to the rest of the team. Roxas was to be accompanied by Lexaeus, Xaldin, Axel, Xigbar, and Marluxia, along with a small squadron of Dusks. The backup was a little overkill, but Roxas could find nothing to complain about this time. Not even the sweltering heat or the troublesome sand could crush his spirits today. All six men nodded in unison, and Saïx, satisfied, lowered his clipboard and spoke to Xigbar.

"Xigbar, you're in charge. This is just as much an escort mission as an extermination. Roxas must be protected at all costs, and I want him strictly monitored. If the battle takes hours, it takes hours. If Roxas needs to rest, he rests. At the first sign of trouble, the mission is forfeit and you bring him back," he turned to the others. "Do not deviate from the script — we cannot risk a single mistake. Have I made myself clear?"

Another chorus of silent nods followed his question, and his tense posture seemed to relax very slightly. "Very well. Roxas," he addressed the keyblade wielder. "Good luck."

A dark corridor was opened, and one by one, team members were filing through. Following closely behind Roxas, Axel was bringing up the rear when Saïx reached out and tugged his sleeve.

"Axel," he said flatly. "If you get hurt—"

"You'll spank me. I know," Axel winked before making his exit with a wave. "Bye!"

Roxas could already feel the smothering heat of the desert the moment he'd crossed from cool tile into warm sands. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, nor a tree in sight to block out the unforgiving rays of the sun. Although Roxas could already feel himself beginning to sweat, he refused to let the discomfort crush his spirits. It had been so long since he'd been on a mission, he would have accepted any condition if it meant he'd be allowed to work again.

When everyone had made it to the other side and stood together on an empty dune, Xigbar distributed bottles of water as he delivered his instructions. "Okay, class, we're doing it live! Hope you're show ready, 'cause we're not getting a practice run!"

Xaldin leaned over to nudge Lexaeus, speaking in a low voice that was brimming with anticipation. "This should be fun."

Lexaeus matched his competitive grin. "I look forward to the challenge."

Xigbar continued over their banter. "Alright, ladies, the plan is we whittle it down and then Roxas jumps in to finish him off. Marluxia takes point, Lexaeus and Xaldin will be our tanks and cover the ground work beside him. Axel and me will bring up the rear and stick to aerial attacks and projectiles. Kiddo, you stay back and let us handle the dirty work," he gestured to every team member as he listed the order of operations, then addressed the group as a whole once more. "Once we've got him down to maybe a quarter or so, focus on attacks that will stun him so Roxas can rush in without any fuss. I want that thing on the ground when it's his turn. Any questions?"

There was only silence and a few shaken heads in response. Xigbar took the lead and indicated for the rest to follow him. "Alright, then. We're off!"

Axel turned and patted Roxas on the shoulder. "You feeling good, Roxas?"

"I feel fine," Roxas nodded eagerly. "Let's do this."

The group began their trek in the direction of town, scanning the horizon for signs of their target. Sand was blowing in all directions, severely limiting their vision as it nearly embedded in their eyes. They pulled up their hoods, squinting against the blinding sun as they waded through the dunes. Their feet sunk with every step, demanding twice the effort just to walk toward their destination. It was not long before groans could be heard among them.

"Ugh, already sweating…"

"I hate this world…"

"I'll be shaking sand out of my hair for days after this…"

"Hey, no whiners allowed in my show," Xigbar scolded his comrades playfully. "Don't make me turn this production around."

The grumbling ceased as the team continued to traverse the dunes, having seen neither hide nor hair of their target. Of any Heartless, for that matter. As they grew closer and closer to town, Roxas began to wonder if the creature was even still around. Maybe they were too late and it had already destroyed the town and taken its leave. Or, he shuddered as he thought, perhaps it was hiding, waiting for just the right moment to leap out of the sand and take them all by surprise. His excitement shifted into nerves, but, no less determined, he pressed on, shielding his face as he huffed and panted his way through the desert.

"You good, Roxas?" Axel touched his shoulder. "You need a break?"

"We just got here. I'm fine."

Axel paused slightly. "Okay, just make sure you have some water and be careful not to—"

"I know, Axel."

Hearing his sharp tone, Axel backed off. It was only a few more paces after the exchange that they saw the telltale dust cloud in the distance. The sand was thick and dark as it swirled about in a cyclone formation, raging across the desert more quickly than any of them had ever seen it travel.

Marluxia stroked his chin. "Well, well… there's our target," the observation was perfectly timed, as the creature ascended from beneath the surface of the sand, wiggling its many jointed legs and clicking its enormous pincers in a threatening manner. "You guys weren't kidding. He's massive."

Axel scoffed, speaking with an air of confidence. "Nothing we can't handle."

Xaldin stepped forward, taking a fighting stance and practically foaming at the mouth. "Excellent! Let's crush him!"

Xigbar laid a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, settle down there, Beefcake," he turned to the rest. "Form up!"

The team assumed their positions, awaiting Xigbar's command. The Heartless was wading through the sand as easily as if it were water, still partially submerged beneath the surface. Every so often it would dive below, vanishing from sight before reappearing somewhere else almost instantly. The smaller creatures seemed to surround it like a shield, flying as one unit as they circled the giant monster. As far as anyone could see, the creature had no visible weak point, as its body was armored with a sturdy exoskeleton. Roxas supposed they'd have to find some way to not only thin out the numbers of the smaller Heartless, but also coax the behemoth out from the sand and onto its back so that they could target its underside. Knowing the magnitude of the task laid before them, Roxas was beginning to understand why Saïx would send half the Organization to eliminate the creature.

They'd been spotted. The beast was coming toward them, taking its swarm of flyers and its tempest of sand along with it. Xigbar held his arms out, restraining his team. "Hold your positions!"

If Roxas didn't know any better, he'd say the monster was angry. It charged at them at full speed, emitting its battle cries of raspy, buzzing roars. The sound was deafening, like a symphony of cicadas all beating their wings in unison. Roxas summoned his keyblade, fully expecting the horde to intercept them before Xigbar was able to give the order. The rest of the team followed suit, and just when the Heartless were nearly on top of them, Xigbar shouted over the buzzing and whistling in the air.

"Wait for it… and… break!"

The five of them charged toward the gargantuan beast, guns ablaze and cheering wildly. As ordered, Roxas called up a handful of Dusks that stood obediently in a circle around him to act as a flimsy barrier between him and the enemy, but thankfully, their presence didn't obstruct his view of the production taking place nearly a hundred feet away. From his safe distance, Roxas watched as his comrades swept through the sands, weapons swinging, projectiles flying, leaping and dashing in all directions as they battled the creatures. Flashes of thunder and flames lit up the ground. Puffs of dark smoke burst in the air as the smaller Heartless fell by the dozen. Even if he wasn't fighting, Roxas could admit that he was at least very entertained.

Axel broke from the group and hurried toward him, wiping his forehead and panting heavily. "How ya doin', Roxas?"

"I'm fine. At least I'm getting a decent show."

"And with no rehearsal!" Axel beamed. "We ought to take our little troupe to Broadway!"

"What's a Broadway?"

Xigbar was calling for him, and Axel quickly summoned his chakrams. "Gotta get back in there. You stay here and chill, buddy. Your big solo is coming up!"

He took off and rejoined the fight, leaving Roxas to admire the action awhile longer. The absolute spectacle of it all — the thunderous shockwaves from Lexaeus' axe and the quick, vicious swipes of Marluxia's scythe — it was like attending a sporting event. Roxas took it all in with wide eyes and an open jaw. He was fascinated by the sight of Xaldin's spears piercing through the creature's defenses with ease. Xigbar's arrowguns took down the flying Heartless with expert precision. Axel's flaming chakrams burned through the horde, leaving only ashes in their wake. It was an incredible show, and Roxas was _pumped. _ He could hardly wait for his turn. He tightly gripped the handle of his keyblade, practically trembling with the anticipation. Any minute now. He was more than ready.

He'd been watching Marluxia and Xaldin perform a rather impressive team attack when something else caught his attention. Axel was clearing away a cluster of flying Heartless, completely unaware of an odd appendage that had broken the surface of the sand behind him. The creature's tail, Roxas supposed. It was long and tapered with spiked fins, likely to aid in its sand-swimming. Roxas gaped in horror as it inched ever closer to Axel, sneaking up behind him and preparing for a surprise attack.

"Axel, watch out!" he cried loudly. Axel turned, but was too late. The tail reared back and struck him, sending him crashing to the ground a few feet away.

"Axel!"

Roxas nudged the Dusks aside and was staggering down the hill toward his friend when he was halted by Xigbar's voice. "Roxas, stay where you are!"

Xigbar bolted to the man's side and lifted him back to his feet. Axel took a moment to shake off the vertigo and roll his shoulder a few times. "Man, this guy packs a wallop!"

"You okay?" Xigbar asked warily, brushing the sand off of Axel's coat.

"Yeah, I'm good. He just surprised me," Axel stretched his injured joint some more, wincing slightly. "What even was that?"

"I don't know, but you got lucky. Watch your back, man!"

The pair split and the fight resumed. Axel's movements were strained and a bit sloppy now, and he stopped to catch his breath much more often than he had previously. Roxas cringed as he watched, wishing he could just jump in and take his place. Thankfully, the numbers of flying Heartless were falling, and the giant creature was weakening. Roxas measured the steady decline of the Heartless' stamina, and when around thirty percent of its full health remained, Xigbar broke away from the combat to warn him.

"Get ready, kiddo, it's almost your turn."

Roxas nodded, ready to pounce. "I'm ready."

As its health neared the quarter mark, the monster became far more aggressive in its desperation to survive. It snapped its massive pincers indiscriminately, whipping its tail in all directions and throwing waves of sand over fifty feet high. The team was taking damage, activating their limit breaks and narrowly missing blow after devastating blow. Axel, after completing a lengthy and destructive combo, landed back on the ground just in time to dodge another swipe and called over to the team's leader.

"I think this is as good as it's gonna get, Xigbar!"

Xigbar nodded and warped back onto the field. "All right, form up!"

At his command, the team huddled back into their positions, standing at the ready while Xigbar waved Roxas forward.

"Take it away, Roxas!"

"Break a leg, buddy!"

It was the moment he'd been waiting for. Roxas didn't hesitate. With a deep exhale, he broke into a full sprint, barreling toward the creature with a fierce glare of determination in his eyes. For the first time in many months, he felt light and limber. He moved swiftly, just like he used to, as if his affliction had simply disappeared for the day. He could feel his weapon vibrating between his fingers. It had been ages since he'd had the chance to use it, but his abilities hadn't faltered in the slightest. The hilt was perfectly fitted to his hand, and the weight of its blade was exactly as he remembered. It whipped through the air quite smoothly when he swung it, cutting through the Heartless like butter as he chiseled down its remaining stamina. In no time at all, he had the creature stunned, lying on its back, perfectly defenseless.

Teeth bared and roaring wildly, Roxas leaped into the air, taking aim at the monster's exposed underside as he soared overhead. It was thick and fleshy, slightly distended, not unlike his own. In just that split second Roxas spent in flight, staring down at his vulnerable target, he started to feel heavy again. He began to see, to think, to wonder. He began to remember. The Cheshire Cat's cryptic messages, the strange figures in his reflection, the voices, the dreams… Roxas closed his eyes to shut out the distractions, to focus his thoughts. He had a job to do. He promised Saïx that he wouldn't let him down. He had to prove that he could still do this. The Organization needed him and his keyblade, and Roxas wasn't about to disappoint them now.

When he opened his eyes again, glancing at the Heartless' bulbous, wriggling underside, he saw just what he needed to see. A creature. A monster. Ugly and disgusting as expected. The repulsion only served as fuel for Roxas' fight, and, targeting the creature's obvious weak point, he dove blade-first into its belly. The monster began to writhe and squeal for a few moments before, just like the others, it vanished into a puff of smoke and darkness. Upon its death, the whirlwind of sand dissipated, and the remaining smaller Heartless fell into piles of dust. It was over. The creatures were gone. The dunes were eerily quiet and still, leaving only Roxas and his five comrades standing ankle-deep in sand, speechless and staring at the brand new emptiness. Their mission was complete. They'd won.

"Yes! You did it, Roxas!"

"Spectacular performance for someone in his condition."

"Yee-haw! What a riot! Good work, fellas!"

The men behind him were whooping and cheering, exchanging high fives and pats on the back from their positions about a dozen feet up the hill. They were praising him, applauding him. Proud of him. He could hardly believe it. It must have been the first time, as Roxas hadn't a clue how to respond. His chest fluttered and his face broke into a smile wider than he'd ever cracked before. This was happiness. He'd nearly forgotten what it felt like. So warm and soft, but buzzing with energy. He could have melted on the spot. Beaming, he turned to acknowledge the compliments of his team with an enthusiastic wave. For once, he was useful again. For once, he had a purpose there. For once, he felt a sense of belonging and camaraderie among his teammates — his brothers. He'd have taken down a hundred more giant Heartless if it meant this feeling would never end. Roxas would not forget this day for as long as he lived.

Just as he was wishing he could take a bow, it happened. The pain struck him through the middle yet again, knocking the wind out of him, forceful enough to bring him to his knees. He dropped his keyblade and collapsed onto all fours, heaving violently and trying to catch his breath. _Not now… Please, not now…_

"Roxas?" he heard the rapid shuffling of his comrades' footsteps approaching. Axel was first to reach him, kneeling beside him with a hand on his back. "Buddy, talk to me…"  
"I'm fine, Axel, I just—" The pressure began to clench and Roxas' voice was cut off. He could hear the others whispering, could feel them staring at him. They muttered under their breaths to each other with dread in their voices.

"Uh oh…"

"Is he okay?"

"Okay, just relax…"

Roxas covered his face in shame, but the damage was done. He was right back to being an animal in a cage, displayed prominently for his friends to gawk at. What a fool he was to think he could ever be anything more. He could feel their nerves humming in the atmosphere like static threatening to shock anyone who touched them. He could sense their fear. That closeness, that sense of belonging was gone, replaced with an unbearable sort of distance like a glass wall or a wire fence. A barrier just thick enough to get the message across. Roxas' fingers curled into fists as his own anxiety transformed into seething rage. As if in response to the burst of anger, the pain in his abdomen skyrocketed and he cried out before he could restrain himself.

"I think that's our cue, Maestro."

"Shit, let's go, boys! Get him out of here!"

"I've got you, Roxas," Axel was lifting him, supporting him as they began to walk. "It's okay, just lean on me."  
Roxas was practically hanging off of Axel as they passed through the dark corridor. His legs were shaking and wouldn't bear his weight. He still kept his face covered, refusing to look anyone in the eye when he entered the Grey Area.

Axel guided him to the nearest sofa. "Okay, buddy, come on, let's sit down…"

"What happened?" Saïx asked urgently. "Was he hurt?"

"No, the mission was a rousing success, went off without a hitch. He just went down at the last minute."

There were more hands grabbing at him, lowering him into the soft cushions, more voices giving him instructions. "Here, Roxas, take a seat," Xigbar said, always the best at masking the concern in his tone. "You did good."

The pain had long since faded away by the time he was seated. Roxas supposed he had probably over exerted himself and the entity inside him protested. When his breathing had leveled, he spoke up in a hopeless attempt to settle the others' nerves. "I'm fine, you guys…"

The static in the air only amplified. Voices were raised, overlapping as they threw commands left and right. Half a dozen cloaked figures were crowding around him, closing in, suffocating him with their anxiety. Twice as many eyes were piercing through to his soul, watching him intently. The noise was overwhelming. Roxas could hardly breathe.

"Get him some water!"

"Put his legs up!"

"Seriously, I'm fine!"

"Zexion, examine him, quickly."

"Let me get that sand off ya…"

"Roxas, here's a towel for your face…"

"Would you all just stop it?!"

Having had enough, Roxas snapped at them, swatting them away and climbing back to his feet in a huff. "This is hard enough without you all coddling me like I'm made of glass! I feel heavy and tired, but I completed my mission and I didn't break. Now would you all quit staring at me for once?!"

His outburst silenced them, but his pleas accomplished nothing, for they all continued to gape at him without a word. Only moments ago, these men were cheering for him. They celebrated his achievement with thunderous applause and high praise. But now, those same faces that smiled as they congratulated him were now cringing in pity and shame. Those same hands that clapped in approval for him now wrung with visible apprehension. Even Axel, who Roxas thought he could depend on to treat him like he was still a normal person, stood with the rest and said nothing. His best friend, someone he was supposed to trust, who was supposed to be different from the others. Roxas should have known it was too good to be true. Axel wasn't going to rock the boat for his sake. He was just the same as everybody else — complacent.

Saïx stepped forward to break the uncomfortable silence. "All of you, take a break. We will continue the search for Vexen with the evening shift," he turned to Roxas as the others dispersed. "Roxas, you did well today. Take some time to rest."

"Back in the cage?" Roxas hissed, glaring hotly at him. Part of him hoped to see that glimmer of concern from that morning during the examination. Saïx almost looked human then as he stood in the shadows, nervously biting his lip as Roxas was struck with another of the mysterious pains. It was refreshing to sense the clouds of anxiety wafting off the man from across the room, but now he was right back to being his usual blank slate. His face was infuriatingly empty, devoid of all emotion, and it was clear that he wasn't going to respond. Without another word, Roxas turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, paying no heed to the tardy protests from Axel.

"Roxas!"

"Let him go, Lea."

Saïx threw an arm out to halt Axel from chasing after the boy. One glance at the stern look on his face made it obvious that the man knew something. Axel could see the weight of secrets in his eyes, and could sense the sheer magnitude of the effort Saïx employed to contain them. He returned the authoritative glower with one of his own, piercing through to Saïx's mind, silently imploring him to speak. He thought things were changing. He'd witnessed the shifts himself. All those flashes of emotion — those subtle hints of humanity — where had they gone? Those faint echoes of a heart — the brief glimpses of _Isa — _were they all meaningless? With only his pleading expression, Axel begged him to explain, only to be disappointed by his silence once again.

Zexion stepped in, carefully taking hold of his arm. "Okay, Axel, let's have a look at that shoulder…"

Making use of the distraction, Saïx headed swiftly for the door without looking back.

"Isa, wait."

"I have a report to write."

Saïx didn't even pause as he made his exit, strolling out into the hall with his long coat billowing behind him. Defeated, Axel dropped his head, reluctantly submitting to Zexion's unsolicited inspection of his injury.

"Well, it doesn't look too bad. Just a little strained is all," he concluded. "It's still healing quite nicely."

"What do you know, Zexion?"

The apprentice started. "Huh?"

"What has he told you?"

He hesitated before responding, all but confirming Axel's suspicions. "It isn't my place to say."

"Zexion, I'm trying to salvage my relationship with this guy. If he's opening up to you—"

"It's not like that," Zexion insisted. "Look, I gave him my word and he trusted me. It's not my story to tell."

It was clear that Axel would be getting no answers from him. He sighed, having grown weary of all the dead ends. First Roxas, then Saïx, now Zexion. All the poking and prodding in the world would not grant him a peek into their thoughts. No matter how he knocked, all doors were shut tight and locks were sealed. And, he supposed, he more than deserved to sit in the dark. He was just as guilty of breaking trusts, spitting half-truths everywhere he went. He hadn't earned their confidence in the slightest. Now, he was merely reaping what he'd sewn.

"Give it a couple days," Zexion said, lightly massaging the surrounding muscles. "It should start feeling better as long as you go easy on it."

"Thanks, Zexion."

Axel jerked out of Zexion's grasp and made to leave. Once again, he wasn't sure where he would go. It was too soon to confront Saïx, too late to apologize to Roxas. At this point, his own room — with only the bare walls for company — was his only option.

"Wait."

Zexion's voice stopped him in his tracks. The apprentice was trembling and fidgeting, staring at the floor as he spoke softly. "He's just trying to protect you," he confessed with a shaking voice. "He doesn't want you to get hurt again. So please… leave it be."

_Well,_ Axel thought, _at least this window is still open. _ He could read Zexion so clearly. He could feel that dull throb of human empathy in his chest. The glistening look in his eyes that said _I get it._ The tremors in his voice, reminding him that _we have all been where he is._ The warmth of understanding and the heaviness of guilt. A weariness that told him he was no longer just a kid in need of a big brother. Zexion was a man now. He'd seen all the same horrors as the rest of them. He'd made all the same mistakes. Endured all the same pain. Axel ached on his behalf, that the young boy he knew had grown old enough to know such regret.

He didn't get the chance to give Roxas that hug. If Axel had any sense at all, he'd have marched up those stairs and squeezed the kid until his eyeballs popped out of his skull. And if he was feeling especially bold, he would then advance on Saïx and hug him senseless as well. But he couldn't. Not yet. It was too risky. Axel was tired — tired of the daily grind of waiting, watching, hoping, of painting on that smile and playing pretend — and his strength would falter in his fatigued state. It all took an enormous toll — one that he was more than willing to pay. After all, someone had to do it.

Tomorrow, Axel would wake up and do it all over again. Until then, he would just rest. And so for now, the only embrace he wanted to feel was that of the drugs and the sleep.

* * *

I've waited a long time to post this one! Thanks as always for keeping up with this story and for all the love you give me. I am honored that we are making this journey together!

We have a Discord! If you want to talk about your favorite Kingdom Hearts ships, discuss fan fiction, look at fan art, or anything else KH related, come and join us!

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Peace and love!

Ostelan


	28. The Longest Chapter

Strap in, folks. This one's a doozy.

* * *

_Back in the cage._

Roxas had done everything that was asked of him. He accepted this horrendous trial for the good of the Organization. With the promise of getting his memories back, he let himself be a test subject for an experiment that had been growing inside him for months, hurting him, making him sick, and destroying his body and mind with the insurmountable stress.

_Back in the cage, as usual._

He endured the isolation and the loneliness. He sat idle in bed when it was ordered. He submitted to every medical examination without complaint. He left it all up to fate with only the blind hope that he would live to see the day when it would all end.

_Back in the cage, where I belong._

He stormed back into his room, tearing off his gloves and flinging them to the floor. He was so sick of this room. He was sick of these walls, the floor, the bed, even the air. He was so angry that he couldn't think, couldn't do anything but stand there and seethe. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his journal. He always wrote an entry after missions. Saïx told him it would help focus his mind. He flipped to the first blank page he could find and attempted to write.

_Fuck this._

Roxas couldn't even scribble the date. He slammed the journal closed and threw it at the window as hard as he could. He flipped the chair as he stood, no longer able to contain his fury. He stomped over to the mirror to stare at his reflection, begging the image to warp again. To shift back to normal. He wanted to go back to the way he was. That swollen abdomen was the very embodiment of his status as a lab rat, a circus freak. That swollen abdomen was all anyone ever saw. It was disgusting. It was repulsive. He couldn't stand the sight of it for one more second.

He was grinding his teeth in rage. The tension traveled from his jaw and across his shoulders, down his arms and to into his hands. His body was trembling. He was clenching his fists until his fingernails nearly punctured his palms. His vision began to blur. He couldn't take it anymore. He desperately needed to destroy the grotesque image in front of him. That reflection needed to die.

Before he realized what he was doing, he reared back and his fist collided with the glass. Cracks spread from the point of impact, blooming from the center like ivy. There was no pain. There was only hatred. There was only anger. He threw his fist again and again. Over and over. Pieces of shattered glass fell to the floor. Blood was smeared all over the fragments, pouring out of his knuckles. Still he felt no pain, only numbness and rage.

Roxas was so consumed by his anger that he didn't hear his door open. He paid no mind to whoever had entered the room or to the deep voice that called his name.

"Roxas!"

The mirror was still standing. It hadn't crumbled to bits. He had to try harder. His reflection was still visible. Those strangers were standing beside him again, now looking sad. So, even the ghosts pitied him. It was downright infuriating. He aimed right at their faces and punched the glass again. That man with the familiar eyes. That woman with sadness in her expression. The boy who looked like him. He pummeled them one by one, wishing every one of them would just disappear. A pair of arms swiftly restrained him around the shoulders and pulled him away from the fight.

"Roxas, stop it! That's enough!"

Roxas struggled and writhed against his captor. He had no right to interfere. This battle was personal. "Let me go!"

The voice softened. "Calm down," it shushed him. "You're hurting yourself."

"I don't care!"

The man pulled at him, dragging him away, yet seeming unwilling to use too much force. "Just relax. This isn't going to make you feel any better."

Roxas' eyes began to well up, but no matter how they swam with tears, the image of his horrendous form remained in the bloody glass. "I can still see it! I'm sick of looking at it!"

"Roxas—"

Fed up with flailing and thrashing against the interloper, Roxas wrestled out of his grasp and doubled over in anguish. For several seconds he just stood there, frozen, watching his blood run off his skin. The intruder kept his distance, giving Roxas his space. His heavy eyes could only make out the shape of him, but his identity was unmistakable. Bright blue hair framed the man's face. His stern eyes were glaring at him just as they always did. _Why him? Of all people, why him?_

Roxas bit his lip, holding back the inevitable onslaught of emotion threatening to spill from his eyes. He wasn't going to crack when he'd come this far. Not in front of Saïx. Damn the wretched creature for bringing him so close. "I'm so tired, Saïx… I can't stand another minute of this…" His blood was boiling, and something was pounding so heavily in his chest that he couldn't breathe. "This monster has taken everything from me!" Roxas shouted defiantly. "My freedom, my identity, even my friends! I have nothing! I'm all alone! You have no idea what that's like!"

Saïx never lost his patience nor raised his voice, maintaining his calm and stoic demeanor in the midst of Roxas' near-hysterics. "Roxas, I do know what that's like."

"Then why are you stopping me?!" Roxas lunged for the mirror again, attacking with his already gnarled fist. Saïx reacted quickly, but not before Roxas was able to get another hit on the sharp glass. He grabbed Roxas by the shoulders again, forcing him to turn away from his inanimate opponent.

"Roxas, listen to me," he bent down to Roxas' level, speaking more gently than he ever had. "Take a deep breath. I know you're angry, but this won't help."

Roxas was no match for Saïx's strength and couldn't escape him in his condition. He surrendered, doing what he was told and taking a breath, then a few more for good measure. His head began to clear, slowly but surely. The drumming in his chest had relaxed its pace.

Saïx nodded his approval. "That's much better. Now, are you hurt?"

"What's it to you?" Roxas spat, recoiling from Saïx's outstretched hand.

"It's my job to ensure your health and safety."

"Is it? Then I think you dropped the ball a few months back."

Saïx's stony expression didn't change in the slightest. He reached out and took Roxas by the sleeve, tugging him away from the shattered mirror. "Come with me, Roxas."

"No!" Roxas protested loudly, struggling to free himself from Saïx's grasp. "Don't make me go back to the lab!"

"We're not going to the lab."

Though Saïx tightened his grip, he didn't pull any harder, and Roxas supposed the man would wait there for days if he had to. Left with no choice but to submit, he let himself be escorted out of his room and down the hall toward the staircase. No words were exchanged between the two as they walked, the only sounds being the tapping of their footsteps and the dripping of blood from Roxas' hand onto the marble floor. Even Roxas' thoughts were eerily silent, his mind too weary to wonder where they were going. To his surprise, they ended up at the kitchen, where Saïx headed to the counter and started up a kettle of boiling water.

"Sit down," he said. "This will not take long."

Roxas hesitated. He could have run right out of there and was certain that Saïx wouldn't stop him. He took a step back into the doorway. If he was quiet enough, perhaps the man wouldn't even notice him leaving.

"Run, if you wish," Saïx called without turning from his work with the kettle. "I haven't the energy to chase you."

There was a shrill whistling as the water reached a boil. Roxas watched as it was poured into a small cup over a mound of loose tea leaves. His curiosity piqued, he slowly trudged over to the table and took a seat just in time for Saïx to set the cup in front of him.

"What's this?" Roxas asked, leaning over to smell the contents.

"Ginger tea," he answered. "I find that it settles the stomach."

"You have stomach problems?"

Saïx was pouring a second cup for himself. "I'd say that's the least of my problems," he muttered as he sat and reached for Roxas' hand. "Let me see it."

Roxas quietly obeyed, finally getting a clear look at his hand as he presented it to him. It was mangled all to hell, but Saïx took it carefully, turning it about and inspecting it. There were pieces of glass in it. It was covered in cuts and bruises. Parts of it were swelling terribly. Blood gushed from it in several places, staining his skin completely red. The wounds were mostly superficial and nothing had broken, but now, his anger having simmered down and without the aid of adrenaline, it was beginning to really hurt. Saïx made no outward reaction to any of his observations, continuing to silently examine every side of it.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said, rising from his chair. "Stay where you are."

"Saïx—"

"Stay."

He disappeared into a closet at the back of the room, searching briefly before returning with a small box filled with emergency medical supplies. He pulled out a roll of bandages, a bottle with a clear solution inside, a tiny pair of forceps, and a tube of ointment. He removed his gloves, exposing his hands so that Roxas could see them. He realized that he'd never seen Saïx's hands before, and now he knew why. The man's knuckles were covered in a chaotic roadmap of scars.

Catching him staring, Saïx explained. "I'm no stranger to self-loathing, Roxas."

Roxas gasped, stunned by the notion. "But why…?"

"Hold still."

He began with the forceps, carefully picking shards of glass from Roxas' hand. It was fascinating to watch, if not slightly unsettling. Roxas bit his lip and was silent during the process, hoping that the man might fill the space with words. Perhaps elaborate on his confession — his admission of self-loathing. As cold and hateful as it seemed he could be, Roxas would have thought Saïx to be the least likely to genuinely loathe anyone or anything. It simply wasn't possible, and no one had embraced that limitation more than he. Where the rest of the Organization had begun to open up to the idea that they could inexplicably feel again, Saïx closed off even more, curling inward and hiding behind the guard of his stone face. Even now, as a typhoon of thoughts and memories — as his story — swirled about in Saïx's head, he still showed no emotion, only continuing to pluck glass from Roxas' wounds with his usual expressionless stare.

After some time, he seemed to notice Roxas watching him intently, waiting to listen to that story. The one that, as Roxas could plainly see, he didn't like to tell. He sighed heavily. "I didn't always look like this," he began. "I've punched more mirrors than I care to admit to."

"You mean the…?" Roxas eyed the mark across the bridge of the man's nose — the X-shaped scar that dominated the center of his face. Roxas had always been curious about it, but knew better than to ever ask. Now that the opportunity had presented itself, he couldn't bring himself to say the words. "Um… What happened?"

"Xemnas did this to me many years ago."

Roxas blinked. "Why?"

"I asked him to."

"What?"

"I was young. I was hurt and desperate," he answered blankly. "And, I was foolish."

He'd finished removing the glass and was wiping away the dried blood with a wet cloth. Roxas would have expected him to be a bit rough, but his handling was surprisingly gentle. Even as he applied pressure to the few more alarming cuts still leaking blood, it was obvious that Saïx was being cautious. Roxas watched his face, trying to read him. He could sense the man's emotions clear as day, but was continually impressed by his ability to mask them. His eyes were keenly focused. His responses were deliberately vague. Although Roxas could fill in the blanks, he could hardly contain his questions. "Who hurt you?"

"It doesn't matter," he said shortly, setting aside the bloodied cloth and opening the bottle of clear liquid. "Brace yourself."

He took firm hold of Roxas' wrist and poured the contents of the bottle over his hand. There was a searing pain upon contact, and even though Roxas was prepared for it, he still hissed and squirmed in his seat, prompting Saïx to tighten his grasp. Thankfully, it wasn't long before the sting had faded, and Saïx could continue his work dressing the wounds.

"My reflection only serves to remind me of the mistake I made back then," he went on, still in a jarringly flat tone. "I like to think I had a softer expression once upon a time."

"You didn't deserve that…" Roxas muttered. When Saïx looked up, questioning him with his eyes, he repeated himself. "You didn't deserve what he did to you. No one deserves that."

Saïx paused before responding. "It's in the past, Roxas. It doesn't matter anymore."

Of all twelve members of the Organization Roxas could call his comrades, Saïx was the one he understood the least. Without fail, he always maintained a well-practiced composure unmatched by all. Always wore an icy glare, flat and lifeless in even the most stressful of circumstances. He never faltered, until now. Until the experiment came to a head and everything seemed to fall apart. Saïx was a closed man, guarded in every sense of the term. Roxas never knew just what he was thinking, but now had a decent guess. In so few words, Saïx had laid out his entire story for him to hear. One he'd heard before, in a way. One of sorrow and pain. One that, however inadvertently, the two of them shared. The parallels between them were uncanny. Together, they had lost too much. Together, they were hurt and angry. Together, they'd had their fill of loneliness.

Roxas began to feel an ache somewhere in his chest. It began in the center and traveled outward until it filled him entirely. It wasn't anything like the fiery spread of anger or the electrifying current of happiness or the sharp daggers of fear. No, this sensation was one of a slow, sad decay, as if he were rotting from the inside out. He swallowed hard, fighting the clench in his throat and the nauseating drop in his stomach.

"Saïx," Roxas whispered shakily. "What's going to happen to me?"

Saïx paused briefly, but didn't answer. Roxas pressed him further. "This thing can't stay in here forever. What's going to happen?"

He didn't raise his head. "None of us know what will happen."

"Even a theory. Anything, Saïx. Please."

"All of my theories are disturbing."

"I can take it."

"Roxas…"

"Just tell me!"

There was a long hesitation wherein Saïx still did not budge. Not a word, not even a glance. The silence was heavy and crushing. Roxas was glaring impatiently, and at last Saïx relented, giving him a look like he'd never seen before. There were a multitude of emotions behind it. Roxas could see pity, sympathy, anxiety, and outrage, all clashing in a great war inside him. The battle raged on, back and forth, with no end in sight. Through the hole in his chest and into the pit of his stomach, Roxas could see the catalyst that set it all off. Remorse. The slow-moving virus that wore him down piece by piece. He didn't have to say anything. Roxas heard him loud and clear.

It was no longer refreshing to see Saïx looking so emotional, so human. Now, it only filled Roxas with a sense of unease. He regretted the intrusion, trying to peek into the man's thoughts like he did. After having found Saïx's mind to be such a dark and frightening place, he struggled to turn away from it, as if gawking at a gruesome, bloody scene of an accident. It was then that Roxas began to understand. Zexion had explained the meaning of the term 'pregnancy' months ago. It was an awkward discussion from beginning to end, but the apprentice glossed over the more unpleasant details and stuck to the necessary facts. Even those facts were harrowing — Zexion described symptoms that sounded so brutal that Roxas questioned why anyone would ever choose to let such a condition overtake them. All the while, the scientists promised to make him as comfortable as possible, throwing everything they had at the pain, the nausea, the insomnia and the stress, all to no avail. Roxas experienced every symptom in its entirety, and each day he would turn to the sky and beg for just a moment of freedom. Just one breath of fresh air to hold him over, to remind him of what would be waiting for him on the other side of this godforsaken trial.

What he wasn't told — the details he'd been so graciously spared — was how it would all end, and Roxas had always been too afraid to ask. Now, he understood why such information had been left out.

"Will it hurt?"

Another heavy pause. "Yes."

Roxas gulped. "Am I going to die?"

An unforgettable look in his eyes. "I don't know."

Roxas should not have found any of it surprising. Plenty of times he prayed for death. If anything, he should have been relieved to hear that he might finally escape this hell. Even death would have been better than staying this way. But then, as the words passed Saïx's lips, and the reality of his situation came crashing down on him, all Roxas could think was noise, and all he could feel was fear.

He'd almost forgotten the pains until he felt another one suddenly crushing his insides. He hissed, clutching his writhing abdomen as the pressure climbed at a staggering pace. Saïx froze in his seat across from him, looking on in horror. Roxas heard him gasp and felt his alarm. "Roxas? Is it like before?"

"Yeah, it's the same as—" The pain intensified, interrupting him. He closed his eyes and tried to take himself back to the clock tower. Tried to remember the taste of the ice cream. The sound of Axel's laughter and the warmth of the sun's rays on his face. The steady rhythm of his breaths and the reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Roxas," a voice came from directly beside him. "Drink it."

He opened his eyes. Saïx had moved to the chair next to him and was holding out the teacup. Roxas had forgotten all about the tea. Ginger, for stomach problems. _Tummy aches. _Quite an understatement for what was happening to him.

"Saïx, I don't think—"

"It will help you relax."

Roxas did drink the tea, and the pain did pass, but he wasn't about to give the man credit for it. The spasms always lasted around a minute or so, and this one was no exception. When it had finally wound down, Roxas began to feel very tired. He peeked at the clock, finding it to be only a few minutes past five in the evening. Much too early for sleep. Perhaps the mission had worn him out. He was woefully out of shape. The other guys were probably tired, too.

"They are getting worse," Saïx observed with foreboding in his tone.

"No," Roxas blurted insistently. "I was just surprised, that's all."

Saïx was unconvinced, but nodded and silently returned to his place across the table to finish wrapping the bandage on Roxas' hand. It was still sore, but mild in comparison to the mysterious spasms. Like usual, the pain had come out of nowhere with no discernible trigger. It had been some time since the last one, long enough for him to have let down his guard. In exasperation, he listened inward for whatever message the creature wanted to send, any reason it could give for hurting him. _I've been pretty generous to let you live inside my body for so long. The least you could do is tell me what you want from me. _The only response he received was a series of painful aftershocks, and Roxas winced as they rumbled through his belly in defiance.

Saïx took notice and was already reaching for the teacup again. "Another one? So soon?"

_Alright, alright! I'm sorry for asking! Stop it!_ "No, it's nothing. It's just a cramp."

"Roxas, if it's coming back already, then you need to—"

"Just hold on a second," Roxas stopped him. He was so close to having it figured out. Saïx was staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer just as much as he was. Roxas could feel his anticipation. Could hear the buzzing of his nerves. Just like that morning during his examination. Just like every damn time he got near him. Suddenly, something clicked into place.

"It's…" he whispered. "It's you."

"What?"

"It's you," Roxas said, staring him directly in the eyes as the picture became clearer. "You're in pain. You're terrified. What's wrong?"

Saïx's face became slightly pale. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Roxas was dumbfounded. He looked at Saïx and could see it all so vividly, so perfectly. Was the man really not aware? How was it that he could hurt so much and not even realize it? It finally made sense. At last, Roxas had put the pieces together. The strong emotions, whether his or otherwise, were what triggered the spasms. The repugnance at seeing his own reflection. The anxiety in the lab that morning. The excitement after the battle in Agrabah. The overwhelming fear right there in the kitchen. Emotions that belonged to him, and emotions that did not. Roxas could feel them just as powerfully, and when they struck, so too did the pains.

"I get it… emotions," he elaborated. "I know we don't have hearts. But I had to feel an emotion to be able to break that mirror. And you. And everyone. Whenever any of you feels something, I can feel it too, and if it's strong enough, that's when the pains happen…"

"Roxas, we are Nobodies. We cannot feel emotions."

"I don't believe that for a minute, and neither do you."

Everything Saïx might have said in response flashed across his eyes so quickly that had Roxas blinked, he'd have missed it.

"Look, your face, it just changed," he pointed out urgently. "I've seen it before on all of you. You don't notice it?"

Saïx spoke not a word as he cleaned up the medical supplies, fixing his gaze on the table in avoidance. He was stuffing bottles, ointments, and unused bandages back into the little box, rearranging it constantly to make it fit. Fidgeting. Roxas had never seen him fidget before. He reached out and clasped the man's wrist. It was shaking. Roxas couldn't believe it, couldn't even comprehend what he was seeing past the utter shock. Saïx's hands were trembling, and he didn't protest the unexpected touch. He went limp, watching as Roxas slowly lifted his arm until his hand lay flat against his own sternum.

"Do you feel it?" Roxas asked in a hushed tone. "In your chest?"

The room was so quiet that Roxas could practically hear the beating. Saïx was holding his breath, listening with widened eyes. It was unfathomable that any one of them should be afraid to feel that persistent drumming, yet if Roxas could have described Saïx's expression, he'd say the man looked horrified. In clear distress, Saïx wrenched himself out of his grip and practically leaped out of his seat. "Come, you need some rest, Roxas."

"Wait!" Roxas grabbed his sleeve before he could get too far. "Why are you running away?"

Saïx froze in his tracks and Roxas continued in desperation. "I thought we wanted more than anything to be able to feel emotions. Except you. Why, Saïx? Why do you fight it?"

Roxas had no intention to intrude on the man's most personal motivations. He wasn't aiming to violate his privacy or break down all of his barriers. More than anything, he wanted to get through. Not as a counselor, not as a comrade, not even as a friend. But as a person, Roxas appealed to the humanity that Saïx was trying so hard to suppress. After a lengthy hiatus, the man answered in a voice that chilled him to the bone. "Roxas, there is something I want you to understand."

Roxas nodded. "I'm listening."

"You are very close to Axel."

Unsure where this conversation was headed, Roxas stammered slightly, caught off-guard. "I… Y-Yes, I am."

"He cares very deeply for you, as I'm sure you know."

"Well, yeah," Roxas narrowed his eyes. "Where are you going with this?"

With a slight waver in his speech, Saïx spoke slowly, deliberately, ensuring that Roxas understood every word. "I was once very close to Axel."

Saïx turned to face him, now a different man than the one who had turned away. His features had not changed at all, and his mannerisms were undeniably Saïx's, but there was more there. His expression was brimming with something more powerful than sorrow, more agonizing than grief. A type of pain that Roxas did not recognize. Something deep and vicious that both stung sharply like needles, and carved slowly like dull knives. The missing chapters of the story were filled in, and Roxas was now seeing a side of Saïx he'd never seen before. One that was just as broken as the other, but in a much different way. The side that Axel talked about on the clock tower. Roxas was staring into the face of Saïx's Somebody.

"You… You were more than best friends."

Saïx neither confirmed nor denied the claim, only continuing with his explanation with a slight grimace. "You mean everything to him. If something were to happen to you, he would be devastated. I…" he swallowed with some difficulty. "I couldn't bear that."

Roxas was not human. He had never been human. By all accounts, humanity was entirely foreign to him. Friendship was a human concept. Love was a human emotion. Pain and grief and loss were human experiences. Xemnas had always taught them that it was those very facets that made humans weak. But when Roxas looked at Saïx, he did not see a man who was weak. Axel wasn't weak either. None of his comrades were weak. And even so, Roxas couldn't fathom why weakness could be so wrong. How could there be strength without weakness?

Humans are fragile. Humans are vulnerable. Humans are breakable. And even if their injuries are healed, their Nobodies can remember the wounds, can remember the pain. But what Roxas could sense in Saïx was more potent than that. It was plain to see that the man did not just remember — he could still feel it. Axel could feel it as well. Maybe even as strongly as it was when they'd first been hurt. When they'd first hurt each other, as Roxas had come to understand. Perhaps, he thought, they'd never healed in the first place.

Roxas figured he might never grasp the nuance of humanity, but the vulnerability that Saïx was showing him now was more human than anything he'd ever seen. It was then that he concluded that Nobodies could be fragile, too. A Nobody could be broken. Heart or no heart, a Nobody could be hurt just as deeply as any human, and by no means did that ever make them weak.

Saïx released a shuddering exhale. "That is why I am protecting you. I blew my chance to make him happy, but you still have yours."

"That isn't true, Saïx," Roxas argued. "You still have yours, too."

Saïx looked doubtful, and Roxas was even more insistent. "You said it's in the past and it doesn't matter anymore. So, if you want to make him happy, make him happy."

At first, Saïx's face shone with disbelief, clearly untrusting of Roxas' invitation. But Roxas meant every word, and he sternly locked onto Saïx's eyes until he could convince him of his sincerity. There was some hesitation, but he could see the man's jaw clench with determination as his expression became increasingly resolute. He returned to the table and knelt beside Roxas' chair. "Listen carefully," he placed his hands on Roxas' shoulders and fervently implored him. "It will take everything you have to survive this. If you want to live, you have to fight. I didn't, and I went under. It's not too late for you." He was on his knees, begging Roxas from the very core of his being, pleading with a chilling desperation in his voice. "It's going to get a lot harder from here, and you're going to want to give up, but you can't. You have to hold on, Roxas. If not for your own sake, then do it for Axel."

Saïx's intentions were just as much selfish as they were selfless. His desires ran deeper than just wanting — _needing _Roxas to take care of Axel. The look in his eyes, the sound of his voice gave it all away. More than protecting the man who meant the world to both of them, Saïx beseeched Roxas to care for himself as well, in the hopes that the boy wouldn't end up like him. A man who had given up. A man who went under. Roxas refused to accept it. Saïx and Axel were both alive and well. They lived under the same roof, breathed the same air. If there was something standing between them, Roxas couldn't see it.

"Saïx," Roxas took his elbows, speaking just as urgently. "You have to hold on, too. For Axel."

Saïx and Roxas were not friends, and as far as either of them were concerned, they didn't need to be. But after tonight, it was clear that there had been a change in the dynamic of their relationship. What they shared now was a deep conviction to understand — to understand each other and to understand the gruesome reality that had been thrust upon them. To acknowledge their common goals and work together to reach them. _For Axel._ Those words were the seal. The reminder that even if they had nothing else, they would still have him.

It was in Axel's nature to pour all of his energy into caring for his friends. He was self-sacrificing to a fault, and his fierce loyalty and protectiveness was more often than not to his own detriment. Now, in his zeal to carry everything on his own weary shoulders, Axel was teetering on the brink, and the two of them needed to lend him what little strength they had left, or else he would go under, too. It was this promise that had become their purpose, the first thing they could share between them. Axel was their connection. Axel was the basis for this new bond they'd formed, and they both wanted nothing more than what was best for him. He was their purpose, their universe, their everything, and Roxas was more than willing to share him.

Saïx didn't want his pity. Roxas knew that, and he would spare him such a sentiment if that was his wish. But he wasn't about to sit there and let the man suffer, no matter how noble he might have believed it to be. Axel's happiness was far too important to let Saïx be left behind. Whatever troubled past they shared, whatever ugly history was written between them, Saïx meant something to Axel, and Axel meant something to Saïx. Roxas had no right, and no desire, to let that bond stay in jeopardy. If Saïx had truly gone under, then Roxas was not only obligated, but honored to extend his hand and pull him out. They were in this together now, and no one would be drowning on his watch.

Indeed, they were not friends. But they weren't enemies, either. Axel needed them. He needed them both. Their vow, their purpose, was to fight for his sake, and together, they were going to fight like hell.

"It's not too late for you either," Roxas concluded, turning down the man's resignation. He let his words sink in, watching as Saix's eyes changed, cycling through the emotions that were stirred up by the exchange. At the end of it all, he appeared much more relaxed. Relieved, even. Without saying so, he'd agreed to hold up his end of the bargain. Roxas could celebrate his success — at last, he'd gotten through.

"How do you feel now?" Saïx asked, stacking the now-empty teacups and clearing the table.

Roxas' head felt heavy as a cinder block. "Tired."

"Can you walk?"

"Of course I can."

The moment Roxas tried to stand, his knees buckled and he nearly collapsed to the floor. In his fatigue, his legs were too weak to carry him. Saïx caught him before he could fall, supporting his entire weight as the two carefully staggered back to his room. It was a slow trek, silent as the one they'd made earlier. Saïx was patient for every step, stopping whenever Roxas needed to catch his breath. When they arrived at his room, Roxas found that the mess had already been cleaned by the Dusks and the mirror had been replaced. He climbed into bed and could feel himself fading the moment his head hit the pillow.

When he was settled, Saïx turned to leave, shutting off the light as he made his exit.

"Wait," Roxas called for him, barely awake enough for his voice to carry across the room. "Don't tell Axel…"

Saïx returned with a solemn nod. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks…"

Roxas was out before he'd managed to leave the room. Standing there, alone in his presence, Saïx watched him. For once, he looked peaceful. There was no green tinge to his skin. There was no pained grimace etched into his brow. He wasn't afraid, and he wasn't suffering. He was sound asleep. With all he'd been through, Roxas deserved to rest, if only for one night. Knowing what would be in store for him, he would surely need it.

Once the door was closed, Saïx's whole body slumped against the wall in exhaustion. He wasn't sure how, but in that moment he felt entirely drained in a way he hadn't experienced in many years. Physically spent. Emotionally depleted, if it were even possible. It had been a long time since he'd last felt so tired. His head sank into his hands and his eyes, dry and bloodshot, closed off the world and all its blinding noise. Everything was too loud, too bright. The overstimulation made his head ache.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite blue-haired associate!" a cheerful voice slurred from down the hall. "Evening, sweet thing."

It was an understatement to sigh and roll his eyes, but it was all he had the energy to do. He turned to see Xigbar wobbling on his feet as he sauntered toward him. "Why the pet names?"

"Because I'm drunk and I like you."

Drunk was another understatement. Saïx could smell the alcohol on his breath from several feet away. "Sorry, I'm not really ready for a relationship right now. It's not you, it's me."

Xigbar clutched his chest, grinning as he feigned injury. "Ouch! My heart!"

Saïx kept his head down as Xigbar joined him in leaning against the wall. Well aware that he was being watched, he moved not a muscle. His breaths were level and his expression was blank. He felt Xigbar's prying eye, scanning him for a reaction, and he wasn't about to give him reason to start an interrogation.

It was unclear whether he was satisfied or disappointed, but Xigbar eventually dropped the staring and gestured in Roxas' direction. "So, how's the kiddo?"

Still guarded, Saïx chose his responses carefully. "He's fine," he answered, peering at Roxas' door with something like trepidation in his eyes. "I drugged him. He'll sleep through the night."

Xigbar clicked his tongue piteously. "Poor kid. Probably needs it."

They walked together in silence to Saïx's room, where Xigbar invited himself inside and plunked himself in a chair across from Saïx at his desk. Saïx, however, was in no mood for whatever games the man had in store. "What do you want, Xigbar?"

"Well, I came to drop off my mission report. I stayed to talk."

Saïx picked up the nearest stack of papers and began to rifle through them. "I haven't the time to talk."

"Make time. You've been walking around with a face that screams 'I need therapy' for days now."

"I have a lot of work to do."

Xigbar's face was etched with disapproval. "Saïx, you're a mess. Take a break."

"I can't. I still have to file these reports, plot out tomorrow's search rotation, log Roxas' health update—"

He was interrupted by the loud bang of a dark, unlabeled liquor bottle being slammed onto the desk in front of him. Saïx arched an eyebrow, questioning what would possess the man to offer him alcohol at a time like this. "What's this?"

"What's it look like? It's whiskey. Now drink it."

Saïx shook his head and slid the bottle away to the other side of the desk. "I don't drink, Xigbar. It turns my stomach."

"Everything turns your stomach. At least this will help you relax for a little while first. What's the difference?"

"The last thing I need is to be sick while I'm trying to hold the entire damn Organization together."

"Isa," Xigbar leaned in. "Drink."

Saïx wasn't sure what exactly made him do it. Maybe the sound of his human name struck him with a pang of nostalgia. Perhaps he thought it would encourage Xigbar to leave sooner. A shot of cheap whiskey was a small price to pay to get rid of him. Or, maybe some morbid curiosity in him wanted to feel that familiar buzz again. After so many years, he'd forgotten the sensation. Maybe he was wondering if it would feel good. Maybe he _wanted_ to feel good. Whatever the reason, Saïx heaved a sigh, opened the bottle and took a long swig. It was revolting. Now he remembered quite well why he preferred not to drink. It burned from the tongue all the way to the stomach, but he swallowed it without any reaction to its offensive flavor. When he could take no more, he set the bottle back in front of Xigbar and quietly returned to his work.

"Damn!" Xigbar exclaimed. "When were you gonna tell me you could shoot liquor like a champ?"

Saïx did not look up, having no intention to ever answer him.

"I guess you needed it," the man laughed, taking a large gulp himself. "Now, listen. You don't have to hold us all together. That kind of stress can kill a guy. All you have to do is ask and we'll help. You're not alone, my friend."

"Xigbar—"

"You have a lot on your plate. You need to relax or you'll give yourself a coronary."

_At this point, a coronary would be preferable. _Saïx pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling softly. His patience was wearing thin, but perhaps some part of him welcomed Xigbar's company. He simply didn't have it in him to throw the man out. "I really have to finish this, Xigbar."

"Why don't you let me take some work off your hands? I can hand out mission assignments. You could sleep in. Go work on your tan. Visit Axel."

_So that's what this is about._ The discussion with Roxas was more than plenty. Saïx would happily gossip about any other man in the Organization until his voice was hoarse. Any other man but Axel.

"So," Xigbar reclined heavily in his chair and set his feet on the desk, apparently unwilling to drop the subject. "Tell me about him."

"What is there to tell?"

He grinned mischievously and held out the bottle to him. "Drink more."

"Xigbar—"

"_More."_

Saïx glared at him, never once breaking eye contact as he grabbed the bottle, took another sip, and returned it to its place as far away from him as possible.

Xigbar giggled, tilting the bottle back over his own mouth. "That ought to spice things up."

Saïx's thoughts had wandered back to the other night, standing in the hallway and watching Axel's face fall as he rejected him yet again. It couldn't be helped. Saïx knew things now, things he never wanted to know. He remembered how, for the first time in many years, his eyes had welled up as he read the reports with his own name on them — the devastating news he wished he hadn't learned pouring into his mind faster than he could process it. For a long while afterward he just sat there, staring at the screen, reading it over and over and hoping it might have been a mistake, but the words never changed. How could he face Axel now?

Saïx was back to sorting through mission reports — a task which largely became just moving the papers from one stack to another. He couldn't concentrate on any of the words therein, and it seemed that Xigbar had taken notice as he crossed his arms impatiently. "I'm waiting."

"If it's Axel you're so interested in, why don't you just go talk to him?"

"Why won't you?"

Saïx had decided that Axel didn't need to know. It would only complicate things further, and their relationship was enough of a mess without throwing in another variable like that. He wanted the man to know him as he was — a faint echo of someone who had once been his best friend. The mere shadow of Isa. That would be enough. Axel's memories need not be tainted like they were for Saïx.

"I bet he misses you."

"Lay off, Xigbar."

"He's probably lonely."

"Too bad for him."

Saïx was gripping his pencil hard enough to break it in half. Xigbar clasped his fingers behind his head, looking infuriatingly relaxed by comparison. "You know, what you need is to get your rocks off."

"My rocks are fine where they are."

"You'll feel better," he said persuasively. "I just got my shit rocked so hard I swear I grew my heart back. And I feel great!"

"Congratulations," Saïx muttered with a hint of bitterness. "I'm so happy for you."

"Aw man, let me tell ya, that Luxord is a _dream._ Really knows his way around a—"

"Fine. I'll take a break," Saïx snapped, dropping his pencil on the desk. "I'll go for a walk, read a book, jerk off, whatever will make you go away."

"You're sleeping with Axel, aren't you?"

Saïx could feel a warm flush flooding into his cheeks. His skin was burning up from his neck to his ears. He couldn't believe that he was actually blushing. He was probably just angry. Or perhaps it was the whiskey. Whatever it was, it seemed to delight the hell out of Xigbar, and Saïx was ready to wipe that smug grin off his face right then and there. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Xigbar, but Axel and I broke up years ago. I'm through with him."

Xigbar slid the bottle across the table. "Take another drink and see if you still think that."

By this point, Saïx was drinking the whiskey strictly out of defiance. Another shot in and he was beginning to feel the buzz. It had been years since he'd taken even a sip of alcohol, and apparently by now it didn't take much to affect him. He would certainly regret every drop in the morning, but for now, he conceded that maybe Xigbar was right. Maybe he needed it. He set the bottle back on the desk with a heavy thud, closing his eyes as his head began to spin.

Xigbar let out a satisfied chuckle. "Drunk yet?"

"Is that what you're trying to do?"

"Maybe. You're so tense. You needed to chill."

"I'm perfectly chill."

"You are _now,"_ he took another sizeable gulp himself. "So have I loosened your tongue?"

He certainly hadn't. Saïx folded his arms. "I don't understand what it is you want me to tell you."

Xigbar lowered his voice to a suspenseful whisper. "Tell me your secrets. Your thoughts and feelings, your hopes and dreams. All your girlish fantasies."

Saïx could have laughed out loud at the notion. "It'll take more than a few shots of whiskey to get any of that out of me."

"I've got a whole bottle."

Saïx didn't wait for Xigbar to offer it this time. He grabbed the bottle and poured yet another shot of whiskey down his throat. He was growing accustomed to the taste. It was still cheap and lacking in any pleasant flavor, but it was tolerable, and it played its part adequately. He could now say that he was thoroughly drunk. It was a condition in which he never thought he'd find himself again — he was quite honest when he claimed that alcohol turned his stomach — but he didn't entirely dislike the rocking of the floor beneath him or the numbness in his skin. He felt loose and light, more so than he had in a long while. He closed his eyes again, measuring the pace of his breaths, listening for that beating in his chest that Roxas had discovered. It had been such a beautiful sound, so shocking and so moving. So frightening. He was nearly overcome with fear — fear and elation.

The alcohol had saturated his body and his mind. He could feel it pooling inside him, whispering thoughts he wouldn't ordinarily think. As safe as he knew he was with Xigbar, there was a shaky vulnerability to suddenly feeling so open, so exposed. It was such a human moment, letting his inhibitions crumble to bits at his feet. He was liberated, if only temporarily. He could connect with Xigbar so easily now. He could tell him everything and he didn't have to care. If Xigbar wasn't going to leave unless he caved, then he would readily talk the man's ear off until he tired of the conversation at last.

Xigbar flashed a sly smirk. "He must be good."

"He is the best I have ever had."

"Now we're talking."

"It's the closest I ever come to feeling anything."

"You're making me hard just talking about it."

_Me too._ Axel looked so stunning that night, naked and writhing under him. Saïx couldn't stop thinking how exquisite it felt to be inside him. Couldn't stop remembering the groundbreaking intensity of the climax. He should have been embarrassed to discuss such a topic with Xigbar, to have such thoughts in his presence, but he didn't. He felt completely at ease. Saïx could go on and on about how sex with Axel was simply life-changing, how beautiful an experience it was to be so close to him, how intimate their connection was and how deeply in—

"But you're not satisfied just being another notch on his bedpost."

Xigbar's interruption brought him out of his fantasies and back to the present. He'd delivered a heavy dose of reality and Saïx was unprepared for the crushing disappointment. He rose out of his chair in a huff and meandered toward the window, feeling unexpectedly and disproportionately pensive and troubled.

_Relax. It's just the booze._

"Hey, now, don't walk away," Xigbar hopped out of his seat and caught up to the back of him. Saïx had no inclination to fight, and put forth no resistance toward Xigbar's affectionate embrace around the shoulders. "Listen, I'm not gonna pry. It's none of my business. But I know you, man. I've known you for a long time, and I can tell when something's bothering you. And something _really big _is just eating at you from the inside out. Something bigger than Axel. Something that _scares you."_

Xigbar was speaking so softly that, were his chin not resting directly beside Saïx's ear, he wouldn't have heard him. Saïx opened his mouth, intending to say something, to counter his claim, but the numbness in his lips and tongue hindered his speech and he let the words go unsaid.

Xigbar shrugged, unfazed. "You're trying to hide it. That's fine, I guess. I'm just letting you know your cover's slipping."

_That's easy for you to say._

Saïx had to bite his lip to keep from snapping at him in response. Xigbar didn't know a damn thing. He couldn't possibly understand what Saïx was going through. To wake up every day over a ten-year transformation, never recognizing that anything was changing until one day he looked in the mirror and saw someone else staring back at him. How terrifying an experience it was, how confused he was at the sight of it. He knew exactly how Roxas felt. He knew exactly what it was like to loathe the grotesque being standing where his reflection should be. All those years wondering why, never to receive an answer until it was too late, then to find that he never wanted the answer in the first place.

_You try hiding it. You try living this way._

_Your cover would slip, too._

Saïx took a breath. Two breaths. Several breaths. Xigbar had come to help. He was here to be a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, Saïx's chagrin be damned. He hated the man for breaking through his guard, but at the same time couldn't appreciate him more for handling his weakness so gently. On any other day, Xigbar might have just poked fun and teased him mercilessly, but it seemed that he was prone to sentimentality when under the influence of alcohol as well.

It wasn't the first bottle of whiskey they'd shared together. Saïx fondly reminisced about those late nights in Radiant Garden, lying on the floor and giggling over nothing. Back when alcohol didn't bother him. Back when they were human — Isa and Braig. When they were friends. They talked about Lea then, too. They talked about Luxord. They talked about everything. Braig was full of stories, Isa was full of questions. Now awash in nostalgia, Saïx released a long sigh.

"You're very lucky, Braig."

The man tilted his head. "Lucky? In what way?"

_He didn't take it away from you._

He reluctantly ducked out of Xigbar's arms to look him in the eye. His cover had more than slipped — it had shattered. Roxas chipped away at its surface, then Xigbar came through with a mallet and smashed it to bits with one heavy blow. Just like he always did. Saïx looked at him with weary eyes. "You have a high tolerance for alcohol. And a strong stomach."

Xigbar didn't laugh this time. His expression glossed over with melancholy, but his smile was warm and sincere. "You can keep that bottle. A gift from your old pal Xiggy."

Saïx supposed that Xigbar had accomplished exactly what he'd set out to do. The alcohol had knocked him out cold, and when morning came, he could barely see through the splitting headache he'd been left with. When the man came to his door again, giggling as he collected the mission assignments to hand out in his stead, Saïx couldn't even get out of bed to either greet him or to throttle him. He lay there until the afternoon, feeling so ill that he refused to eat and could barely manage a shower. But, in spite of it all, he was grateful for the evening he'd had. Rekindling old bonds and forming new ones. Making promises. Finding a purpose that was worth it. He understood what Axel saw in Roxas, even if he couldn't put it into words. The boy was genuine in a way Saïx hadn't seen in years. He was trustworthy where everyone else in the Organization was not. One could believe everything he said as truth. He was kind, even to those who didn't deserve it. He was loyal to his friends, even when they hadn't earned it. To just be in his presence was a comfortable feeling that defied description.

Everything was falling apart. Nothing was certain, and no one was truly well. But what choice did they have other than to hope for a brighter future? Why not wish, why not pray, why not dream? Why not fight? They all had to cope in their own ways. To muddle through and find those small comforts wherever they could was all anyone could do. Roxas and Axel could have their evenings on the clock tower if that preserved their sanity. Demyx could play his sitar until the castle windows all shattered in unison. Zexion could bury himself in work and live off of black coffee and lonely nights. And finally, for Saïx, it was a welcome escape to set it all aside for once, lose himself in memories, relax into good conversation, and get shamelessly drunk with an old friend.

* * *

It's all fun and games until Xigbar shows up with a bottle of whiskey.

I was just on vacation for a week, where I got to finish this chapter and proof-read it several times. Every time I got to read it was a delight. I am so moved, so thrilled. All of the emotional beats I wanted to hit here landed perfectly and I am so excited to hear what everyone thinks of it. Even the title feels flawless, you guys. I'm stoked as hell.

The first chapter rips my heart out every time I read it. The second half of this chapter was a complete surprise! It was originally going to end after Saix leaves Roxas' room! But NOPE, Xigbar crashed the party and hijacked the rest of the chapter with his surprisingly fluffy bullshit and honestly, I'm here for it. You do you, Xigbar. Live your best life.

This chapter is a real turning point for this story. We have a ways to go, but shit is going down and it's gonna get chaotic, so pack a bag and practice your breathing. I can't wait to show you what I have in store.

Up next, we get to check in on a couple of other fellows who have some choice words for each other.

Come and hang out with me in my discord server! discord .gg/ ffy5E8G

Peace and Love,

Ostelan

PS - this chapter came out to almost a whopping 9000 words, so the title is no joke, y'all!


	29. Melodious Nocturne

Four minutes until midnight. Three cups of coffee for supper. Eleven hours since the last meal. Two days without a shower. Thirty hours without sleep. Zexion had no time to wonder how much longer he could sustain such a lifestyle. There was too much work to do. Roxas was dangerously close to dropping that creature where he stood. Vexen was still missing. His comrades were beginning to panic. Twenty-two tired eyes on eleven worried faces looked to him for reassurance and he had nothing. No answers, no solutions. Not a damn thing to quell their fears or their doubts. After all, it had been thirteen days. Thirteen days since Vexen's disappearance. Thirteen days since he'd spoken to Demyx. Thirteen days since everything went to shit.

Counting was the only semblance of order Zexion could find among the chaos. Six health reports in the backlog. Two staples in Xaldin's scalp. Five stitches in Luxord's wrist. Two scans of Larxene's sprained ankle. Another dose of pain relief for Roxas. The numbers lined up in neat rows behind his eyes, stacked in sequential lists, a perfect representation of structure. The closest thing to a routine he could come up with. Zexion had to assume that Vexen wasn't coming back. That he really was dead. That the Organization now trusted _him_ with their health, and that it was _his_ job to pick up the old man's slack. _His _job to take care of Roxas. _His _job to put Axel at ease and to hold Saïx together. _His _job to fix everything.

Midnight had come and gone, and Zexion was buried in another report, riding the backspace, erasing every mistyped letter his shaking fingers produced. _Shoulder injury is healing well. No surgery required. Could return to combat in the next 1-2 weeks. _He slammed the print button before he could second-guess himself. _Roxas' contractions are infrequent and mild. Standard pain relief is marginally effective._ A few exaggerated claims. A little fluff and padding here and there. What else could he do but tell them what they wanted to hear? It was all he had. Countless well-meaning lies. Countless reassuring smiles. Countless promises that everything would be okay. Not one of them honest, not one of them sincere. But to his relief, his comrades ate up every word. Their modest approval was all the validation he could get. One nod from Xemnas. One hug from Axel. One sigh from Saïx. He could fool himself into believing that he was helping them. He could set his own baggage aside for another day.

It was nearly one in the morning. Saïx had ordered him to bed hours ago, and far be it from Zexion to disobey, but the last thing he wanted was to sleep. Not alone. Not with his mind racing like this. Counting was helpful until he wanted to turn it off. Despite his efforts to quiet the numbers, they persisted, bombarding his consciousness with their rapid, overlapping noise. Only a handful of times had he managed to achieve total silence of his thoughts. Every one of them had to do with Demyx. Hearing his voice, listening to his music, even just falling asleep to his steady breaths — being with Demyx was always enough to block out all the clamor. This was the one activity Zexion couldn't count — the number of times his mind fixated on that musician and refused to let go for anything. Even while he had work to do, he was stuck on Demyx. Even as Roxas was threatening to burst, he was stuck on Demyx. Even when he should have been worried sick over Vexen, his own _father,_ he was stuck on Demyx. That sense of selfishness left a bitter taste in Zexion's mouth, and all the coffee in the world would not wash it away.

He dragged himself out of his chair, taking a moment to stretch his sore joints. His eyes were aching and the air had long since grown stale. He could go mad in this room. He probably had already, several times over. He didn't even bother to tidy up his workspace before he powered off every computer and every machine in the vicinity. No more whirring, no more humming, no more beeping, no more blinking lights, _no more noise._ He flipped the light switch until he was standing in almost pitch blackness. He basked in that serenity for a moment, absorbing the silence, the total lack of sensory input. If he had it his way, he'd live every day in this beautifully empty void, navigating entirely without sight or sound, just like he used to. He could recognize any one of his comrades from miles away by their scent alone. He had the entire castle mapped out in his photographic memory. He could sense so much more than he could see or hear. What use were eyes and ears to him then?

He walked around the lab in glorious blindness, letting his fingers brush over every surface as he passed. The equipment was smooth, cold, and still. Plastic, metal, glass. He could identify every object with only touch. He knew exactly where he was. He'd made it back to his desk. The rough texture was unmistakable. This desk was the first place he'd made love. This was where Demyx had laid him down and shown him just how close to another person one could get, just how vulnerable he could let himself be, and how euphoric an experience that was. Zexion still felt a shudder in his hips whenever he thought of that night. He could remember so vividly that very moment when all the noise had ceased as he reached the apex of the most intense pleasure he'd ever felt. It always happened during sex. Sex hushed the numbers. Sex halted the counting. It worked every time, without fail, and some fretfully guilty part of Zexion missed that the most.

He was getting carried away. There wasn't time for thoughts like that. He hurried out of the lab before the stuffy atmosphere could suffocate him. He was quick on his feet as he made his way back to his bedroom, hoping Saïx wouldn't catch him awake. _This is ridiculous,_ he thought. _Sneaking around like a teenager._ He was a grown man, and he required neither Saïx's permission nor his approval to be awake at night. And furthermore, Saïx had a wealth of hypocrisy to answer for if he was going to get on Zexion's case for inadequate sleep.

He paused and took a breath. A little agitation was to be expected, he guessed, but was ultimately not helpful in the least. He endeavored to calm his nerves as he finally made it to his destination. Back to his room, out of his coat, and into the shower. Twenty minutes under the water. Clean, but not relaxed. Wet, cold, and naked — the others called this peaceful. This was a break to them. A luxury that Zexion had taken for granted. His comrades were out on the front lines, searching for a man who was more than likely just a corpse by now. They were risking their lives, getting hurt, collapsing in exhaustion, and here Zexion was, the lowly medic stuck in the castle, living in relative comfort and safety, free to shower and eat and sleep at his leisure. And yet, in a way, he envied them. Solitude had always been a relatively favorable fact of life for him, but there was always someone nearby. Vexen was always in the next room. Demyx was always just off doing recon somewhere harmless and familiar. There was never any real sense of loneliness until now when all he had were his thoughts. He could neither befriend the numbers nor converse with a cup of coffee. The fantasies were not real company. He was alone. Truly alone. Always alone.

As expected, he could not sleep a wink. His restless brain continued to count anything it could set its sights upon. Fifteen minutes staring at the ceiling. Two hundred and forty breaths. It had been a fortnight since the last time he'd shared this bed. Fourteen days since he woke up beside the most handsome face he'd ever laid eyes on. Fourteen days since he'd lay under the man, writhing and begging as all the numbers faded away into pure bliss. It was almost amusing to think that he'd gone his whole life without a sexual encounter of any kind, but now to be deprived for even two weeks was unbearable. He could either thank Demyx for that change or curse him — Zexion wasn't sure which would ease the ache in the moment. He could do it himself, he supposed, except that he'd never done any such thing. He wasn't entirely certain if he knew how. But he'd try anything for just a glimmer of relief. He was desperate.

He wasn't exactly in the mood. He couldn't have been less in the mood, in fact. He shivered as he lowered the sheet, his body shocked by the sudden chill. His hands were shaking, and his eyes kept darting to the door, as if expecting someone to walk in on him. _Don't be silly, _he chided himself. _Everyone is asleep._ He blew out a sharp exhale — two sharp exhales — and was ready to begin. He didn't like looking at it. It always looked weird to him. He flinched as he touched it — his hands were freezing. Only a few seconds in and he'd already begun to feel very exposed. He'd never had to watch himself before. He used to watch Demyx. He caught a glimpse of his reflection and cringed at the sight of his nude form, lying stiffly on the bed with his legs open for no one, too shy to touch his own body.

_Well, this is going well._

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what Demyx would do. He liked to start slow, as if every time was the first. An average of forty-six kisses from beginning to end, only half of them at or around the mouth. Demyx was careful, but adventurous. He touched Zexion in places he'd never given much thought to. Places he didn't realize would feel good. Places that, Zexion lamented, he couldn't reach himself. This was not to say that he hadn't tried — and nearly laughed out loud at the image of his contorted limbs all twisted about in the mirror across the room. Blushing with embarrassment, he abandoned the endeavor before he could fall out of bed, deciding he'd stick to the basics for his first time.

The next several minutes were awkward and irregular, just getting acquainted with himself. His motions were a bit clunky at first, but he eventually relaxed into a steady rhythm, relieved to find that the practice wasn't especially difficult. His hands strayed, gliding over spots that ordinarily erected goosebumps on his skin. His flank, his thigh, his collar — places where Demyx could play him like one of his sitars. But for all of Zexion's fondling and stroking, those regions elicited no response. No chills in his spine, no convulsions in his hips. No clench of anticipation or gasp of surprise. It was taking too long and he was growing impatient. He couldn't concentrate, could scarcely remain at attention. No matter how he shifted his stance, his grip, his technique, there was no progress to be made. It was still pleasurable, but flat and dull by comparison. Altogether too mechanical, too cold and monotonous. It was no use. This wasn't sex. Not even close.

He threw his clothes back on and rushed into the hall with no thought to where he might be going. Out. Just out. It didn't matter where — he just had to get out. Out of the castle and onto the streets. Out of the World That Never Was and someplace new. There were five hours and forty-eight minutes until dawn. By his standards, the night was still young. This time was his to waste. Spurred on by a sudden surge of rebellion, he opened a dark corridor and stepped inside, turning off his senses as he began his trek. He was going to find some release no matter what it took, and no one was going to stop him now.

He couldn't remember how he'd made it to Twilight Town, or why he was standing in front of the entrance to that bar. But he opened his eyes and there he was, staring at the heavy wooden door and losing himself in the memories of his first visit there. The place where he and Demyx had decided to be together. _Why here, of all places? _ It took some internal coaxing to get him through the entryway, but once he made it inside, he found the place just as empty as when he'd first come.

"Welcome!" the bartender greeted him cheerfully. "Where's your friend?"

Zexion dropped his eyes. "He's not coming."

The man's face fell and his jolly nature shifted to one of great sympathy. "I'm sorry, friend. Can I get you anything to make it better?"

"No, thank you," Zexion shook his head. "Do you mind if I just sit for a while?"

The bartender smiled, some warmth having crept back into his demeanor. "Of course not. Be my guest. And hey, the piano is all yours! I'd sure love to hear you play again."

The compliment brought a pink flush to Zexion's cheeks, but he returned the smile and nodded as he made his way to the back of the bar. He sat in front of the piano for several minutes, just staring at the keys. He didn't know what to play. The song he'd played with Demyx before was the only one he could remember, and he certainly didn't want to hear it again. He stretched his fingers and cracked his knuckles in preparation before laying his hands on the keyboard, hoping that if he just started up with anything, a melody would come out automatically. Maybe he'd remember another tune from his past. Maybe he'd make one up. He took a breath and began to play.

It was a rough start. He was stumbling all over the place, making mistakes, tangling his fingers — it was quite clear that he had no idea what he was doing. He stopped several times, collecting himself and trying not to think. Eighty-eight keys. Seventy beats per minute. Fifteen bars. Sixteen bars. The counting droned on in his head as he restarted again and again, each time insisting that _this would be the one. _But it was hopeless. He couldn't remember anything. His hands wouldn't do it anymore. He'd lost his ability.

He was concentrating intently on whatever random nonsense he was trying to create, testing notes, missing keys, making a real mess of the piece when the bartender appeared from behind and set a cup beside him. Startled, Zexion's hands flew off the piano. The man laid a hand on his shoulder, flashing his hospitable smile once more. "That sounds terrible."

Zexion began to blush again, avoiding eye contact with him. He stammered with embarrassment at having inflicted such a senseless racket upon his ears. "I-I'm sorry. I'm not sure what's happening…"

"Have a drink, my friend," the bartender gestured toward the glass. It was filled with a pale yellow liquid, and an orange slice was floating inside. "This one's on the house."

"Th-Thank you, sir, but I really don't drink…"

"I insist," the man pressed him. "You'll feel better."

With much reluctance, Zexion took the glass and brought it to his nose. It smelled sweet. Fruity, even. With a courageous inhale, he squeezed his eyes shut and took a generous gulp. To his surprise, it tasted as sweet as it smelled. There was no burn in his throat, no bitterness. It was delicious, and he drank the rest of it quite easily. He opened his eyes and turned to thank the man, to ask what on earth he'd put in it, but the bartender was nowhere to be found. The area behind the bar was empty, save for the shelves full of bottles. The man had simply vanished.

Alone again, Zexion returned his attention to the piano, closing his eyes this time as he dangled his fingers over the keyboard. He used to practice for hours each day as a child. He'd hammer out the same section until he could play it correctly, flawlessly. And he remembered how frustrated his younger self could be when a session didn't go well. Even on those days, Master Ansem clapped enthusiastically after every performance. It never mattered to him whether little Ienzo's playing was good or bad. He was always happy to listen, always wearing that affectionate smile on his face. Zexion could remember the very last time he'd played for him — his favorite tune. A single tear fell from the old man's eye. Little Ienzo didn't understand at the time, but the now-grown Zexion understood perfectly. What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to be moved to tears by something so simple as a familiar melody. But, to his deepest regret, he cast off that privilege right alongside the man who'd first shared it with him.

Zexion remembered every note of the piece, and he played it seven times before his fingers tired of it. But for as long as he repeated that same tune, he felt nothing. Even as poignant as it was, he could have played it seven more times and it would not have awakened any sentiment in him. He could no longer hear the beauty in how the notes were woven together. He could no longer comprehend the meaning behind the composition. He wondered just what power the melody possessed if it didn't touch him. If it didn't hurt him. And, if the music could not hurt him, he questioned if he truly loved it any longer.

When his seventh repetition came to a close, he stayed frozen with his hands hovering over the keyboard. That song, and all of the memories carried within it, was no more. Zexion could accept that. The past was right where it belonged. But he had learned new songs and made new memories since then. Music had come back for him. He'd rediscovered that beauty and that purpose. And, there was still someone who would smile and applaud after every performance, even if he haphazardly banged on the keys with his elbows. Perhaps a Nobody could not be moved to tears. Perhaps a Nobody was incapable of love. Such was the law of nature. But music was more powerful than nature.

Turning the page on that chapter of his life, Zexion' hands dropped to the keys and began to play something new. To his shock and bewilderment, a relatively pleasant melody erupted from him. It was simple, nothing a novice couldn't play, but it was nice enough to listen to. A fresh start, something he could build upon. As he played on, he added to the piece — different harmonies, new bass tones, even a somewhat atonal development that was still easy on the ears. To his great surprise, he was enjoying himself. He was making music. _Real _music. How he longed for Ansem the Wise to see him now, showcasing what came from his very soul, something that he created out of what he could only describe as _passion._ How he wished Demyx could have been there to hear it. He would have been so proud.

"Well, well… I found you."

The voice came from far behind him. Zexion whipped around to find exactly the face he knew it belonged to. Demyx. Demyx had come. Demyx was there at last, casually leaning against the frame of the archway and wearing that same charming smile that could melt the apprentice like warm butter. Zexion nearly fell off the bench, hardly able to contain his elation.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked as his embarrassment returned in full force.

Demyx grinned. "Long enough."

He stepped into the room, heading right for the piano with his arms clasped behind him. Zexion held his breath as he came near. He must have looked so stupid, sitting there frozen and gaping at him. But Demyx's smile never faltered as he sat down beside him on the bench, hopefully taking no notice of the shudder that spread through Zexion's body as he joined him.

"What was that you were playing?"

Zexion tried to speak, but only managed a hiccup. He covered his mouth as heat washed over his face and ears. Demyx was chuckling. Not in a taunting or disparaging manner, but Zexion's anxiety was already set in motion. _What the hell was in that drink?_ He was feeling a bit dizzy. He hid his burning face in his hands as the humiliation seized him entirely.

It was only a few moments before the laughter stopped and he heard the softness in Demyx's voice. "I brought someone who I think will make you feel better," he announced as he unveiled the stuffed Moogle toy from behind his back. Zexion bit his lip, hesitant to take the doll from him. This was another memory he'd thought was no more. But Demyx had rewritten that fate as well. He'd given the Moogle plush a new purpose, just as he'd done for the piano. Zexion's eyes welled up as he brought the toy's soft fur to his cheek.

"Thank you, Demyx…"

The musician smiled again, sending Zexion into a swooning daze. He had to say something. He had to fix this. Zexion's mouth was suddenly so dry, but he had to get these words out. "Demyx, I—"

"Don't apologize," Demyx interrupted him. "I get it."

He shrugged, rising from the bench and taking hold of the guitar that rested beside the piano. The one he claimed he didn't play, yet seemed to have mastered in a matter of seconds. He turned the pegs, plucking each string over and over until they were in tune. "Let's play something."

Demyx was waiting for him to start. Zexion's mind was entirely blank. He'd forgotten every note he'd just played and every tune he ever knew. He was totally lost. Before he could panic, he closed his eyes again, taking a breath, then several more. His fingers found the keys again, and he played whatever felt right.

Demyx joined right away, instantly bringing a new beauty to the piece, just as he always did. It was hard not to just listen to him, but Zexion kept going, letting his fingers lead the way. He was experiencing the progression of the song in real time, without a clue where it would go next, and the effect was positively exhilarating. The melody swept high across the keyboard and the bass reached far to the deepest end. He could feel the music in his chest, in his bones, in his soul. He could feel the connection to Demyx in this melodic conversation they were sharing, speaking with notes instead of words. Expressing their emotions, real and lovely as they were. This was music's new purpose. This music touched him. This music hurt him. This music moved him.

Zexion was overwhelmed. His eyes welled up again, and before he could fight them away, tears spilled down his face. But he was determined. He kept playing, now more fiercely than before. Five sharps in this key. One hundred and thirty beats per minute. Four measures in this phrase, three in the next. He played more complicated passages, quicker scales, less tonal melodies that were difficult to predict. His fingers were going too fast for him. Even Demyx was struggling to keep up. Mistakes were creeping back in. Sour notes and skipped beats. The more Zexion lost his composure, the less coherent his playing. His eyes were so blurred with tears that he couldn't see the keys anymore. His face was soaked with those that he'd failed to contain. He was playing blind, raging up and down the keyboard and slamming into whatever notes he could catch. Demyx had stopped playing, just watching Zexion's descent into madness with a piteous look on his face. When the point of no return had long passed, he set down the guitar, rejoined Zexion on the piano bench and wrapped his arms around him just in time for him to collapse in despair.

Zexion cried into Demyx's shoulder harder than he could ever remember crying before. Curled up at his chest, he blubbered incoherently, his words lost to the anguish, his pitiful sobs muffled with leather. He could hardly breathe. He was grasping frantically at Demyx's coat like a frightened child. He'd never fallen apart like this. He hated it. Every time he thought he was done, it started up again. He was a pathetic, sniveling mess, thoroughly embarrassed by having broken down so heavily. What must Demyx think of him now? The man hadn't spoken a word the whole time. He was silent, never cutting in, never shushing him or trying to stop him. Zexion was grateful for his presence, relieved that he was so patient, so tender. It had been so lonely, so dark and empty without him. Without Vexen. Without anyone. It was all too much. Zexion could no longer stand the pain.

"Demyx, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

"Shh," Demyx whispered. "You've got nothing to be sorry about."

That was it. That was the moment he'd waited two weeks for. That was Demyx's forgiveness, handed over so unceremoniously. Zexion had _everything _to be sorry about. He could have spent all night listing his transgressions. But Demyx had enough compassion to overlook every one of them, and he asked for nothing in return. It was that very compassion, that aversion to conflict that drew Zexion to the man. He was so peaceful, so easy. Demyx was strong in a way that no one else was, and Zexion needed that strength now more than ever.

"I can't do this…" he choked, sniffling and wiping his face as his sobs gradually slowed.

Demyx pulled away to face him properly. "What do you mean?"

Hesitating, Zexion dropped his head. He couldn't dump all of this on Demyx. Not now, when he was being so generous. But Demyx would not accept the silence, and he took the apprentice's hands, now more stern and insistent. "Zexion, don't hold back. There's nobody else here but you and me. Let it all out."

Where could he begin? Demyx was inviting him to unleash months of unresolved stress and the floodgates were on the verge of total collapse. Everything to do with Vexen, Roxas, Saïx, Axel, Xemnas, Demyx, and even himself would spill out everywhere and the poor musician would never be able to follow. Zexion lifted his eyes. Demyx was waiting, but there was no impatience there — only a soft expression that said _It's okay. I'm listening._ He trusted the man implicitly. Somehow, he knew that Demyx would understand. Zexion, baggage and all, was safe with him.

"I miss him…" he answered with an audibly shaking voice. "Vexen… Where the hell is he? What am I going to do if we don't find him?"

Zexion hadn't any choice but to dive right back into work after Vexen's disappearance. There wasn't time for grief or worrying. There wasn't time to miss him. But now, as everything he'd ever known about anything unraveled before his very eyes, the one man he could confide in was gone. His guilt over the experiment with Roxas and the role he'd played therein, his anxiety about how hopelessly wrong it was going now and how he staggered under the crippling weight of new responsibilities he'd never asked for — he could have brought it all to Vexen. Vexen was sturdy where Zexion was a bit unstable. When the world shined too brightly, Vexen shielded his eyes. When the thick, heavy air smothered him, Vexen reminded him how to breathe. Vexen gave him a place where he could feel safe and relaxed. Now, there was no guarantee he'd ever feel that sense of security again.

Somewhere, hiding among all of his remorse and his fear was a glimmer of anger at the old man for leaving him alone like this, and to recognize such an inappropriate response in himself only made him feel worse. The flow of tears resumed full force as he grew more worked up. "I can't do this without him! I'm just watching Roxas deteriorate and I don't know what to do!" he sobbed, barely catching his breath in between. "He's in pain. He's suffering. That thing's going to kill him and it'll be ugly and gruesome and there isn't a single goddamn thing I can do about it. It's hopeless! I can't do this, Demyx, I need him!"

He shouted into the musician's neck, unsure if the man could even understand anything he said. All the while, Demyx said nothing at all, just holding him tightly and letting him pour it all out. Zexion absorbed his calm, his peace. The gentle sway of their bodies and the soft fingers dragging up and down his back never wavered in their mesmerizing, steady pace. The constant motion of his chest expanding with each breath was easy to match. Zexion's mind counted those beats, those steps, and at last, it was relaxing to hear the numbers quietly pass by.

"I miss him so much…"

"I know," Demyx murmured. "It's okay."

"If he's really gone… I don't know what I'm going to do…"

"He's out there," he said with growing confidence. "He's still kicking. I can feel it. We're gonna find him."

Zexion was increasingly doubtful. "Roxas could die… And I'd be totally powerless to stop it. I can't save him, Demyx. There's nothing I can do."

"There's a way. Roxas is strong as hell," Demyx gripped his shoulder. "He's gonna make it, I know he will."

Still, the apprentice was unmoving. He hung his head in defeat, determined to remain in his slump. Demyx, tender as always, cupped his chin, lifting his face and sweeping the long fringe from his eyes. "I know this is a lot. But you can do it," he assured him. "It's gonna be okay."

He planted a kiss on the apprentice's forehead and dried the tears from his cheeks. Zexion could only stare, captivated by the gentleness in his eyes and the light in his smile. There were very few things in the universe that Zexion would call 'beautiful.' Nothing seemed quite deserving of such a description. And for someone who had spent so long navigating his surroundings without sight, it hardly made any difference whether something was easy on the eyes or not. Demyx, however, upset that entire premise. Demyx took his breath away and seized his tongue. Demyx could charm him with ease, could dazzle him until he wavered with vertigo. Demyx could say things so profound that they gave him chills. Demyx was beautiful. For as long as Demyx was in his sights, Zexion never wanted to close his eyes again.

_It's every bit as scary as falling… and hurts just as much when you hit the ground._

He clutched the stuffed Moogle to his face, letting his tears melt into its soft fur. It smelled like Demyx. Breathing in that pleasant scent, he could not contain the smile blooming in his lips. That toy had been stored away in a dark cupboard for years and years. Forgotten, likely never to be used again. Demyx had reawakened its purpose and made it something new — a symbol of comfort and security for him, for Zexion, for both of them. Likewise, Demyx had revived Zexion's music. Buried away in his past, just as abandoned, just as forgotten. Demyx brought it all back in an instant. The musician showed him all the ways a melody could touch him, could move him. How he could forge the most intimate bond with someone else through the power of song, a connection too deep for words to express. It was not a reminder, but an entirely new lesson in humanity, by and for two men for whom humanity was supposed to be well out of reach.

Demyx took the old relics from his past, his cherished memories of Ansem the Wise, and he repurposed them. He gave them new life, new meaning. He sought not to replace, but to complement those memories. He stood among the gathering of Zexion's most treasured companions, center stage and sharing that spotlight with them. Together with Ansem the Wise and Vexen, he presented his new ovation, applauding just as thunderously and smiling with all the same affection as the rest. Zexion had been convinced that a Nobody could not be moved, could not shed tears. Could not feel and could not love. Such were the cruel and unbending laws of nature. But all in one night, he was proven wrong on all counts. Love — like memories, like music — was more powerful than nature.

"Demyx… I love you."

He felt the musician freeze against him, could feel heat spreading beneath his skin as the seconds crawled by in deafening silence. But when he looked Demyx in the eyes, he saw no surprise or bewilderment. The musician merely smiled that same gleaming smile as always. "I love you too, Zexion."

They rested there at the piano bench in comfortable silence. There was no need to recover from the shock, for this wasn't any shock. There was no need to process the revelation, for this wasn't a revelation at all. This was something they already knew and understood deep inside themselves, and had merely just reaffirmed with words. They were in love. That was all. Zexion pressed himself against Demyx's chest again, listening to the sounds echoing inside. He searched for the sound of beating he'd heard before, and it wasn't long until he found it. He closed his eyes and relaxed to the gentle vibration of Demyx's heart thumping softly beside him. For once, it wasn't jarring to accept that thought — that Demyx had a heart. It made all the sense in the world, and that made it just as easy for Zexion to believe he had one of his own as well. These simple truths required no analysis, no doubt or question. Nature and reality had been rewritten just for the two of them, and they were content to live with that mystery.

"Demyx," he whispered. "Promise me I won't lose you, too."

Demyx paused a moment, as if confused by the request. But the realization soon came over him, his face quickly broke into an understanding smile. "I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

"It's dangerous out there. You yourself have said you're not cut out for combat."

"Yeah, but I'm no pushover, either. In fact, you know what I'm really good at? Running away."

Zexion laughed, much to Demyx's amusement. "There's that smile," he brushed his thumb across Zexion's lip. "You feel any better?"

"Not really…"

"That's okay," Demyx patted him on the back. "You can keep going if you want."

"We should go back…" Zexion yawned. "It's late. I'm sure the bartender wants to close up for the night."

Demyx nodded and stood, offering a hand to pull Zexion up from his seat. The apprentice wavered a bit on his feet, unsure if his sudden dizzy spell was from the fatigue or the alcohol. Noticing his struggle to regain his balance, Demyx extended his elbow and donned his usual charming grin. "Can I walk you home?"

Zexion could only smile back as he linked arms with him, following his lead on the way out of the bar. Demyx waved to the bartender as they neared the door, and the cheerful man paused his scrubbing of the bartop to bid the two farewell. They had almost made it to the door when Zexion stopped and stumbled toward the counter.

"Oh… Sir," he said, leaning heavily on a barstool. "Thank you for everything…"

"It was my pleasure, son. Don't mention it."

If nothing else, Zexion figured he ought to tip the man for his trouble. He reached into his pocket, pulling out what little munny he carried with him, and as he dropped it into the glass jar, he noticed that it was nearly overflowing with cash. He was certain it hadn't looked like that when he'd first arrived, but supposed that he just wasn't paying attention.

"If I might ask," he inquired, tilting his head. "What was in that drink?"

The bartender smirked. "Pineapple juice, soda water, and grenadine."

Demyx and the bartender began to laugh hysterically, and when the bafflement had worn off, Zexion could not help but join them. So, it was all in his head. A classic psychosomatic response. Despite knowing that it wasn't real, he could still feel the fuzziness of intoxication, rocking him back and forth like a ship on the ocean. He felt it whenever he glanced up at Demyx's grinning face. He felt it as the laughter overtook him and he grew dizzy and breathless, staggering about on legs that felt like gelatin. The pair giggled all the way back to the castle, darting around corners and hurrying to the closest bedroom before Saïx could discover them awake at such a late hour. Zexion didn't even want to see the clock. Didn't want to count the precious few hours he had left for sleep. They wanted to respect the emotional poignancy of the moment, to preserve the warmth of their reunion, but the second the lights went out, they were kissing like they hadn't seen each other in years. Zexion longed to take the encounter further, desperate to be as close to Demyx as he could possibly be. But he was far too tired for that now. For tonight, it was enough to press into his chest as they drifted away. Demyx would still be there in the morning.

Blinded again, Zexion reached out into the dark, feeling for him until his palm rested against Demyx's chest. Unexpectedly, another hand crept through the sheets and found his own chest in response, laying gently across his bare skin. It was the first time he had become fully aware of that drumming inside himself, his own heart beating in perfect sync with Demyx's. He counted those beats, at last finding the practice to be relaxing. Zexion was very particular about calling anything 'beautiful.' Music was beautiful. Demyx was beautiful. And that steady rhythm in their chests was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Together, those melodies weaved into a song — their song. Their new duet. The beautiful nocturne that gracefully lulled them both to sleep.

* * *

In my mind, I always refer to Nobody is Heartless as "my beautiful, perfect little hot mess." This is a story where I truly feel no restrictions, no anxiety or pressure, nothing to hold me back from just writing exactly what I want to write. I feel so free when I write this story, and I can't even begin to express how glorious and exhilarating a feeling that is, knowing that I love what I've created, and I celebrate its perfection at the same time that I acknowledge its imperfection. I love this story like my own child, and I will proudly shout it from the rooftops until my voice gives out.

Likewise, I love my readers. I don't know your names or your faces, but I know that you have come to read my first story and share in my first journey into the world of writing. That makes you my friends. Thank you for being here for every chapter. Thank you for taking the time to click that kudo button or to type that comment. Whether you've been with it from the beginning or you just showed up this week because quarantine had you bored enough (and brave enough) to check out stories with the mpreg tag - thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance.

Sorry to wax poetic all of a sudden, this fluffy crap has me feeling all sentimental as heck. It might be a little bit before the next Nobody is Heartless chapter because I am literally starting it from scratch with no outline, but in the meantime you should check my other stories! On the Mend: Isa's Awakening is my hot mess honor student story that people seem to really like. Breaking the Berserker just got turned into a series with a new update full of fluffy mpreg junk food that I am so hungry for. And if you want to see sneak previews of my work before it gets posted, follow me on Twitter and Tumblr! I use this same name everywhere - even on YouTube where you can watch me punish the Org XIII Data Battles like the filthy casual that I am.

Don't forget to join my discord server so we can get all chatty about Kingdom Hearts and whatever else suits our fancy! disc ord. gg/ ffy5 E8G

Peace and love, Ostelan


	30. Confessions: Part 1

Many thanks to Riku Kingdom Hearts for your help with this chapter!

* * *

It should have been impossible for a man with no heart to feel such pain.

Saïx thought he'd seen the worst of it, this miserable half-existence that was being a Nobody. He thought he had nothing left to lose. Yet there he was, crumpled in a heap on the floor, a sniveling mess, having finally learned just how wrong he was. He had gotten a little too comfortable in the assumption that he'd always have Axel. After all, they only had each other. Their plans, their promises. Even without hearts, they could so easily fool themselves into believing they still felt real love. They could learn to accept whatever life they had, living as if nothing had changed. Until today. Until the very moment the words "_It's over" _were muttered. Until he watched those green eyes turn away and that red mane disappear into the distance. Axel was everything, and he took everything when he left. It was only then that Saïx realized he had truly lost it all. He was alone. He had nothing. For the first time, he could feel the hollowness in his chest. Xehanort had robbed him of the ability to feel happiness. Axel had robbed him of the memory of that feeling. Xehanort had stolen his heart. Axel had stolen its echo. Now, in this moment, he couldn't decide which had hurt him more.

_It's not real. It's not real… _

He wandered the castle in a daze, blinded by his own tears, lost in his anguish. There was nowhere he could go that he did not think of him. He wasn't sure how, but he managed to wind up in Addled Impasse. The room was wide and empty, affording him at least the privacy to collapse in despair. His mind replayed every word, every image, every moment they had ever spent together on an endless loop. The memories bombarded him by the hundreds, the thousands. He lost track of the time he'd spent lying motionless on the ground, his tears dripping onto the tile beneath him, staring into the void through the tall windows.

He heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind him. They were slow, almost leisurely, growing louder the closer they came. Saïx couldn't bring himself to turn around, but looked up into the glass to find the reflection of his Superior standing over him. It was unlike Xemnas to stroll about the castle aimlessly, and even more so to seek out his comrades for casual conversation. Perhaps Saïx had been there all night and missed his shift, and the man had come to deliver a reprimand. He braced himself for the worst, knowing full well that Xemnas couldn't hurt him any deeper than he already was.

"Saïx."

The tone of his voice was unreadable as always. Saïx sniffled, hastily wiping his face and sitting upright. "Sir."

"It's quite late," the Superior remarked. "And you seem troubled."

Saïx climbed to his feet, averting his eyes. Xemnas heavily discouraged displays of strong emotions such as this. Laughter was seen as an insult. Crying was considered weak. Pleasure and pain were outside their grasp, and the lot of them were instructed to embrace it with the whole of their being. Saïx could hear the Superior's booming voice in his head already. Empty men were uniquely powerful. One cannot harm someone who cannot feel, and nothing could be taken from a man who had nothing. "No, sir… I just couldn't sleep."

A hand found his shoulder. Its grasp was firm and grounding at the same time that it was gentle and comforting. "There is no need to keep it from me."

His resolve was wavering. Saïx's face twisted in an effort to stem the fresh flow of tears, choking back the impending breakdown threatening to wash over him yet again. He clenched his fists and held his breath, willing himself to regain control. It was foolish to let himself be overwhelmed like this by emotions that weren't even real.

The more he fought it, the harder it fought back. He slammed the window with his hands, dropping his head and admitting defeat. False as it was, the pain was simply too great. He could hardly think. The Superior had taken a few steps closer and was patting his back. To Saïx's surprise, he repeated none of his silly mantras about casting off the weakness of emotion and resisting the temptation of its false afterimage. He made no claims about whether or not the heartache was real, and he didn't scold his young comrade for weeping over it.

"There, there, my son…" Xemnas whispered. "Tell me what has happened."

Saïx shook his head, muffling his voice in his sleeve. "It doesn't matter anyway."

"It matters to you," taking Saïx by the shoulder, Xemnas turned him from the window to face him. He cupped the boy's chin, lifting gently until their eyes met. "Who has hurt you?"

Saïx's vision was clouded with tears, but if he didn't know better, he'd have mistaken the Superior's expression for genuine sympathy. To his dismay, the pain only worsened at the revelation. Of course Xemnas' display was just a performance. He didn't feel any real concern for Saïx at all. He chided himself for his continued failure and tried to wrestle himself away. He'd been fooled yet again like the dense halfwit that he was. "I have no heart. I cannot be hurt."

Xemnas did not argue a word, and only raised a hand to brush the newly-fallen tears from his cheeks. "You poor boy," he muttered regretfully. "When one loses his heart, he must also lose the bonds it had formed. It is a piteous inevitability of our nature."

He didn't protest when Saïx had finally wriggled free and stormed back to the window, letting his forehead fall onto the glass. The Superior, whether he meant well or not, was just rambling as far as he was concerned. Saïx was barely listening to the man's feeble attempts to console him, preferring to be left alone to wallow in grief.

Xemnas followed him to the window, continuing his poetic explanation with the same apologetic cadence. "It stands to reason that hearts of great strength can cast imposing shadows. Perhaps some of those shadows may linger on after the hearts are lost. At times, the pleasure, or the pain, can feel as real as they did when we were human."

Saïx sank to the floor, so overcome with anguish that he could no longer stand. His eyes were burning with the onslaught of tears, and his stomach was aching from the force of his sobs. Years must have passed since he'd last shed tears over anything or anyone. How cruel he was to ever ridicule Axel for crying, to go so far as he had in order to make him stop. He pondered what the man might think if he saw him now, a pathetic wretch lying at the Superior's feet, weeping openly like a child. It would have been the perfect retribution. He supposed Axel would probably laugh in his face at the irony. He deserved it. He deserved this.

He lay there for several minutes, sputtering and moaning, unable to even speak, and yet Xemnas only sighed. "Oh, Saïx… Your suffering fills me with remorse. How I wish that I could take that pain away."

Saïx paused at this. Xemnas was the Superior of the In-Between. He was ruler over all of Nothingness. Surely among his immense power was the ability to end his sorrows. If he had the authority to rip out their hearts, he must be capable of also destroying those shadows left behind. "C-Can you?" he stammered, dragging his arm across his nose. "Please, sir… If you can stop this…"

Xemnas stepped a few paces away, stroking his chin. "Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps… there is something."

At last, Saïx's crying had ceased. For just a moment, he felt a glimmer of relief in hoping that the Superior could help him in some way. He staggered back to his feet, brushing the wrinkles from his coat and sweeping his hair out of his face, frozen in anticipation. It didn't matter what it would take — Saïx would do it. He would endure anything Xemnas inflicted upon him if it meant he'd be free of this pain. Holding his breath, he waited patiently as Xemnas let his gaze fall on him, the frightening image of a young man so desperate for relief that he would have accepted death as an alternative to the crushing agony he thought he felt. If the Superior had any compassion left in him, Saïx prayed that he might use it now and grant him the healing he longed for.

Xemnas gave him a long look, seemingly considering the request. Saïx had neither breathed nor blinked, staring eagerly at him with wide eyes. A beat of silence passed, then another, before the Superior heaved sigh and shook his head. "Ah, child, it is too risky."

With nothing left to lose, Saïx implored him insistently. "I am willing to take the risk, sir."

"It is dangerous, Saïx. What would I do if harm had befallen you?" He offered one last affectionate squeeze of his young comrade's shoulder. "Your wounds will mend with time."

He turned and proceeded solemnly toward the exit, making clear his intention to end the conversation there. Saïx stood paralyzed, crestfallen as he watched his only chance for relief heading for the door. It was an all-too familiar sight, much like when Axel had turned away and left him standing in a pool of anguish. Perhaps this was all he would ever know now — people claiming to care about him, only to cast him aside, leaving him in the dust. Perhaps it was no less than what he deserved. The pain flooded him, eating at him from the inside out. It was unbearable, excruciating. He couldn't stand it any longer. It was over. There was nothing for him here. He would rather be a Dusk than be forced to live with an injury such as this. His only options now were a fragment of Xemnas' generosity, or one flying leap off the top of the castle.

Saïx broke into a run, following after the Superior and catching the tail of his coat. He collapsed to his knees, bowing his head and pleading for his mercy. "Sir, I beg you…" he sobbed. "I-I beseech you… I will do anything, Superior. Please, take this pain from me."

Over and over he entreated Xemnas to either release him from the torturous agony of heartbreak or put him out of his misery. After several moments of tense silence, he heard the Superior exhale deeply.

"You are certain that this is what you wish?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded, blubbering into the hem of his master's coat. "More than anything. Please, help me…"

A smile crept into the Superior's voice as he bent down and extended his hands to pull the young man to his feet. "Very well, my son. I will liberate you from this pain."

Saïx was positively elated. "Th-Thank you, sir… Your generosity is boundless…"

Xemnas grinned, gesturing for him to stand and wait. Saïx stood rigidly in the center of the room, trembling and squeezing his eyes shut as the man stepped a good distance away. Finally, the wrenching pain would cease. He could forget all of this sorrow and grief at last. He took several deep breaths, working to still his trembling fingers as he waited for whatever spell might be performed. There was a blinding flash, so bright that he could see it through his eyelids. The air grew intensely cold, biting at his flesh with the chill. He thought perhaps he would hear something. A whoosh of magic as it bent the space between them, a static in the atmosphere, but he heard nothing at all. Taking a breath, he opened his eyes to find that he was no longer in Addled Impasse. He was not in the Castle That Never Was at all. He was in the middle of a pitch black void, staring at an enormous celestial object overhead with the appearance of a heart-shaped moon. He'd heard about this — supposedly this was what Kingdom Hearts looked like. But how had he gotten here? Was this the real Kingdom Hearts?

There was an electric blue glow surrounding the moon, radiating from its borders and reaching him in one swirling beam. The sight of it was captivating in its otherworldly beauty. He'd seen many moons in his lifetime, but none as lovely as this one. His eyes were pasted to its bright surface and its vibrant corona. The energy wafting from the sky enveloped his body. There was a warm vibration on his skin, like a current. It soothed him so perfectly so that he no longer felt cold. He'd forgotten the pain. The experience of the moon's gentle caress was the most pleasurable sensation he'd ever felt.

Xemnas was speaking — chanting some sort of incantation, perhaps — but Saïx couldn't make out a word of it. With every phrase, his voice rose in volume until he was shouting into the abyss, commanding the forces around them to yield to his will. The moon shone even more brightly until it was too much for Saïx's eyes. He tried to close them, to avert his gaze, but he couldn't look away. The warmth engulfing him was getting too hot and too heavy. He couldn't breathe. He gaped helplessly as another blinding flash of light struck him, instantly blinking his surroundings out of existence and replacing it all with immeasurable darkness.

There was an intense pain like none he'd ever felt. He screamed and fell to the ground in shock. He'd been burned. He could feel it between his eyes. Something had burned his face. Still blind and helpless, he writhed on the floor, panting heavily. He tried to crawl, searching for a landmark that might indicate where he was. He reached out ahead of him, hoping his hand might collide with something, anything. Finally, after several minutes of flailing about in the dark, he came in contact with a cool, smooth surface. Glass. A window. Of course, he was back in Addled Impasse.

The pain in his forehead had dissipated, only to be replaced by an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest. His vision was clearing, and soon he could see the gradually sharpening image of the marble pattern beneath him. He scanned the room all around him to find that he was alone. Xemnas was gone. He wondered if it had all been a nightmare. Perhaps he had cried himself to sleep here and dreamed the whole thing. When he was confident that his limbs could bear his weight, he lifted himself to his feet and took a glance in the reflective window beside him.

He gasped, nearly falling over at the sight of an unrecognizable figure standing in his place. He blinked several times. He wheeled around to check behind him. There was no mistaking that he was staring at his own mirror image. But, it couldn't be him. The boy in the window had sickening, pointed ears and haunting, yellow eyes. He shed his gloves and reached for his own ears, suddenly nauseated when he discovered that they were just as pointed as the ones on his reflection. He stepped forward and peered closely at his eyes. Once a dazzling teal, now they were an unnatural, lifeless amber. The most glaring change of all was dominating the center of his face, carved into the skin over the bridge of his nose. He hesitated before planting his fingers into his brow, confirming the dreaded truth.

There, seared into the flesh between his eyes, was a fierce, menacing wound in the shape of an X.

* * *

"Ouch! Damn it, Marluxia, put me down!"

Saïx's eyes shot open, quickly blinded by the fluorescent chandeliers of the Grey Area. The startling whoosh of a dark corridor opening roused him from his dream, and at the sound of Larxene shouting in defiance, he turned to find Marluxia half-carrying her as she limped through the portal. They staggered to the nearest chair, where he lowered her carefully onto the cushion, all the while fighting against her furious protests. They were not expected to return for at least two hours. They were winded and covered in sweat and dirt. Puzzled and a bit alarmed by their early arrival, Saïx rushed to meet them. "What happened?"

Larxene, wincing as Marluxia rolled up the leg of her pants, was practically red in the face. "Those morons!" she hollered angrily. "Snap one twig and they start firing!"

"What?" Saïx's eyes widened. "They shot you?"

"They tried, and missed," Marluxia answered, shaking his head and sighing as he gently tugged off Larxene's boot. "We were following them back to their camp. They heard us and got spooked."

"Idiots!" Larxene growled through gritted teeth. "Haven't got one brain cell to split between them—!"

"Larxene lost her footing and sprained her ankle," Marluxia continued under her bellowing. "It looks pretty bad."

Saïx took a step closer and peered at the injured limb, his stomach dropping heavily when he saw how much it had begun to swell. If it wasn't examined by Zexion right away, she ran the risk of ending up like Axel — and the Organization would be down another comrade. "Take her to Zexion, quickly."

Larxene shot him a seething glare. "It's not that bad! I can still search!"

"Not on one leg, you can't," Saïx retorted. "Go and have it fixed. If you're lucky, it will heal up before tomorrow's rotation."

Marluxia hooked an arm under her shoulders and was lifting her from the chair. "Come on, Larxene, let's go—"

"You heard what they said, Marluxia!" she insisted with growing urgency in her voice, stopping both men in their tracks. "We have to find him before it's too late!"

Saïx paused, his eyes darting rapidly between the pair. "What is it? What did you hear?"

Marluxia sighed heavily. "We don't even know if they were talking about him…"

"Who else could it be?!"

"Larxene—"

"Let me go!" she wrenched herself out of his grasp, taking a few uneven steps toward the door. "Stop treating me like I'm so fragile! This isn't like back then!"

She was standing on her own, albeit looking quite wobbly. Her last words rang harshly, amplifying with every echo, driving in their meaning like a hammer to nails. Marluxia just stared at her without a word, watching helplessly as she whipped around and disappeared into another dark corridor, leaving the two men to stew in awkward silence. Saïx had assumed that Marluxia would follow her, but rather than taking his leave, he stayed in place with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "My apologies… She's not been herself lately."

"Really?" Saïx raised an eyebrow. "I hadn't noticed."

Marluxia smirked, barely suppressing a light laugh. "Larxene is guarded. That's nothing new," he crossed his arms, seeming almost defeated as he took on a more serious tone. "But this mission shook her deeply. She was trembling as we listened to those men talking. It was her gasp of surprise that frightened them into firing their weapons."

"What did they say?"

After a long pause, Marluxia lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "I think Vexen might be alive."

Saïx gasped sharply. "You're sure?"

Marluxia wasted no time elaborating. "They spoke of a prisoner they're holding. His execution is set for tomorrow at high noon."

"And you believe it could be him?"

It was clear from his hesitation that Marluxia couldn't be certain, but for the moment, Saïx would have taken any percentage of confidence the man could exude. "At times, it was difficult to understand them, but they mentioned a 'foreign, heretic priest.' I believe they are charging him with witchcraft."

It wasn't the worst-case scenario, but it was one step away. If Marluxia's report was accurate, then the stakes were about as high as they could be. They had just over twenty-four hours to track Vexen down and rescue him. If they failed to do so, they'd not only lose him, but Roxas as well, and whatever creature was living in the boy's body would be set loose on the rest of the Organization. If they even survived, the fragments of their shattered reality would be thrown into chaos. The entire experiment, the Organization's shared goal, and everything Saïx gave a damn about was in jeopardy.

_Shit._

"If that's the case, then our situation is critical. Expect new orders on the rotation schedule."

Marluxia nodded. "Of course."

While he headed for the door, Saïx was left to think. He'd prepared for this — there were contingency plans in place for even worse outcomes than this one, and yet now it all seemed woefully inadequate. Even if all his able-bodied comrades stormed the camp, guns ablaze, throwing stealth out the window entirely, they could encounter a civilization of hundreds, armed to the teeth and itching for war. And with Larxene's new injury, the Organization was down to only eight people who were fit to work — and that was if Xemnas and Saïx joined the search themselves.

His thoughts on Larxene quickly triggered a foggy memory from his past, one that she'd inadvertently referenced before leaving the Grey Area. It was an incident toward which he hadn't put much thought over the years, but now prompted a nagging question of which he simply couldn't let go.

"Marluxia," he called out before the man could exit. "What happened back then?"

Marluxia turned, seeming surprised. "I thought you knew."

Saïx had only ever guessed, never having the opportunity or the desire to ask. But having witnessed Larxene's outburst, cryptic as it was, stirred up the impulse. His disinterest lapsed as curiosity set in, and to see his suspicions confirmed made him regret taking that leap now, knowing he'd intruded into their private matters. When the revelation sank in, he quickly understood Larxene's sudden adamance to continue the search, and could only imagine what the situation with Roxas meant to her. It was a dark topic into which he'd never meant to stray, a hardship he would never face, and therefore never truly understand. He did not belong here. He was out of his element, trespassing into unfamiliar territory, and he'd been caught red-handed.

"I'm sorry."

"Hmph," Marluxia shrugged. "We were too young. It was unexpected. But she poured her whole heart into it. Until there wasn't any left."

As far as Saïx had been concerned, the nature of Marluxia and Larxene's relationship was their business and theirs alone. He never knew nor cared whether they were in an 'on' phase or 'off' phase, preferring to regard them both in a strictly professional manner. But a small part of him could relate to their turmoil, the constant struggle of deciding whether they, as Nobodies, could be something or nothing. It was a question he'd asked himself more times than he could count.

Marluxia and Larxene had achieved a milestone as a couple that even Saïx and Axel — at the peak of their own romantic tale — hadn't reached. What they'd accomplished demanded a commitment that neither Saïx nor Axel had the fortitude to offer. There was a strength to their bond that couldn't be matched — an admirable quality that Saïx might have aspired to, once upon a time. And yet, the fruits of those promises had been snatched away from them in what he would have described as an unspeakable tragedy, were he human enough to be moved by such a story.

"Saïx," Marluxia asked quietly after a long while. "Do you believe that a Nobody can be traumatized?"

All at once, the images from the dream bombarded Saïx's mind in a thunderous crash. He felt the unforgettable burn in his forehead, the hot tears spilling from his unseeing eyes, the dizzying confusion of wandering through the black void, searching for anything familiar to lead him home. He remembered when the regret set in as the realization of what he'd done came over him, staring at himself in that reflective window, too shocked to cry out in terror at the sight of his newly disfigured face. He closed his eyes and could see Axel's broken body lying in the shower stall, barely conscious, only ever opening his eyes to give his old friend a look of terror, agony, and betrayal. Try as he did, Saïx could not simply wipe those thoughts away. Night after night, they came for him, every time he let himself drift off, repeating in perfect clarity until he was ready to slam his head into a wall.

He avoided Marluxia's eyes as he answered. "We remember what pain felt like. We remember the impact it left," he said flatly. "Not that I would know any better."

To Saïx's relief, Marluxia asked no more questions, instead taking his leave in silence. The sound of his footsteps could be heard echoing in the empty halls for several seconds after he'd disappeared from sight, and it wasn't until he could no longer sense the man's presence that Saïx dropped his guard again. He was alone now — at least as alone as he could be with such persistently racing thoughts. For a moment, he reflected on those last few words spoken between him and the comrade with whom he'd never truly connected before. Perhaps Larxene had been traumatized back then, and in a way, perhaps Marluxia had been as well. Saïx wondered then if he, too, had been traumatized. He'd certainly never thought of it that way. Thoughts were just thoughts. Dreams were only dreams. Memories were simply memories. All figments of his own imagination that could never truly harm him. Ultimately, he figured his response to the trauma of his past was practical and logical, fitting for a man with no heart.

And yet, there was a lingering distress in him that he couldn't ignore. Something which pulled and tugged at him until he was sure he'd snap like a rubber band. It was unyielding and painful, tormenting him like a thousand little knives in his flesh. Perhaps this was it. He knew it was only a matter of time before it would happen. Little by little, he'd been watching himself disappear, knowing that he would soon be swallowed up entirely. It was a sickening sensation, feeling himself rot away from the inside out. He longed to tell Axel. He should have been able to tell Axel. But he couldn't. He kept the man at a distance for his own safety in the face of a real and ongoing threat that he didn't have the heart to confess. There was no sense explaining it to him anyway. He simply wouldn't understand. He'd try to be optimistic, to say everything would be alright. He'd make more promises destined to be broken. He'd instill a sense of hope in Saïx that wasn't warranted, and Saïx was quickly growing tired of hope.

He lifted his hand and clutched his chest, searching for that beating that Roxas had shown him. It was that relic from his human days that Saïx clung to — a reminder of his purpose, a wish that had dared him to believe it could come true. Minutes passed while he slid his fingers all around, even taking off his glove and pressing into his bare skin, desperate to feel that gentle thumping, no matter how faint. He couldn't find it. The first glimpse of light in what had been a decade of darkness, and it was gone. His chest was empty, just as he should have expected.

Saïx flew out of the Grey Area at a brisk pace, hoping he wouldn't encounter anyone on the way to his destination. He was thoroughly convinced that Roxas had found his heart. Weak, stifled, imprisoned, but alive. Saïx was going to find that beating. He would take himself to the brink of physical exhaustion if he had to — whatever it would take to get it pumping again. Perhaps his efforts would be futile, but this was a dream he would pursue until there was no more road for him to traverse. Saïx hadn't given up on hope yet. This was his last shred of it, and he clasped it tightly with all the willpower he possessed. He needed this, now more than ever.

* * *

I want to take a moment to give a special shout out to my good friend Riku Kingdom Hearts. She's really been helping me a lot with holding onto the inspiration I need to write some of the more difficult chapters of all my stories. She is a great writer, a dedicated reader, and a wonderful friend. Go check out her work!

Thanks as always for sticking with this story - such exciting things are coming up so I hope you'll stay tuned! Follow me on tumblr (ostelanexcruciasm) and twitter (ostelan) to see sneak previews of my writing, Data Greeting photos, and whatever else I decide to babble about (a whole hell of a lot of FF7R right now). And don't forget to come join my discord server, dedicated to our love of Kingdom Hearts! (/ffy5E8G)

As the world descends further into chaos, I hope you'll always find refuge in fan fiction. May my stories bring you to a state of peace, at least for a little while.

Peace and Love,

Ostelan


	31. Confessions: Part 2

"_Crying again? Really, Lea, it's astounding how weak you can be…"_

Axel knew exactly who had barged into his room uninvited the moment he heard the hiss of his door sliding open. He should have anticipated the man's arrival, and now regretted his failure to lock the door before climbing into bed. For the eighth night in a row, he returned home from his mission, skipped dinner, and crawled under the sheets to cry himself to sleep. He couldn't even look at Saïx anymore, and avoided him at all costs. To think the man had the audacity to pay him a visit now, of all times, made Axel's blood boil. He sat up and whipped around to face him, barely containing his anger.

"_Crying isn't weak, Isa! Running away from it is!"_

Saïx scoffed, folding his arms. "_Don't be a fool. You have no heart. These tears are just a falsehood… the cruel torments of your memories, playing tricks on you."_

Axel narrowed his eyes, incredulous that someone who used to be his best friend could be so insensitive. "_Well, I'm glad to know you've moved on so quickly. Now get out of my room."_

He rolled back over and pulled the blankets over himself, refusing to continue their conversation. He'd rather have spoken to a brick wall than spend another pointless hour talking in circles with Saïx. That was all they could ever do now — argue until they were out of breath. Ordinarily, he would be sad to have lost someone so precious, but for the moment, he could only feel relieved that he didn't have to try anymore. It was a wonder they had ever functioned as a pair, seeing how incompatible they were now.

Minutes passed, and he hadn't heard Saïx leave. He turned to see his old friend still standing there, staring at him with an unrecognizable expression. In a way, it scared Axel to see him, frozen and glaring with those stranger's eyes. His expression was so sinister, almost menacing. Axel shifted in place, wincing as the mattress creaked loudly with his movements.

"_Isa… what are you doing?"_

Saïx was coming toward him, his face breaking into a haunting smile. "_Fear not, Lea. I have a solution that will dry your tears for good."_

There was a shimmering blue light radiating from his hands. Sparks flew from his knuckles as, back and forth, his fingers curled into tight fists, then flexed as wide as they could reach. Axel tried to back away, quickly pausing when he nearly fell off the bed. Saïx's eyes had turned a solid, glowing yellow. His terrifying smile bared a set of long fangs. Axel stumbled out of bed, trying to plan an escape, but was only able to watch in horror as the man transformed into a savage, frightening beast.

"_No! Isa, please! Don't!"_

Axel held his breath as Saïx threw the magic spell directly at his head, hitting him square in the face with a loud crack. He squealed and buried his face in his hands, brushing frantically at the skin to wipe away the sudden sensation of a scalding burn or an electric shock. There was a nauseating smell of smoke and fumes, though he couldn't tell where it was coming from. After a moment, the pain began to dull and everything went slightly numb. His previously watery eyes dried up until they stung. The tracks where his tears had run down his cheeks were now burning, as if those tears had been boiling hot. He gently pressed his fingers into his flesh, but he couldn't feel anything out of place. Horrified, he looked up at Saïx, demanding an explanation from him.

"_What did you do?!"_

Saïx nodded and flashed him a satisfied grin. "_I made you stronger," _he turned and headed for the door. "_Goodnight, Lea."_

The very instant Saïx had left the room, Axel dashed to the mirror to see the damage. At first, he was relieved to find that he didn't gain yellow eyes, pointed ears, or a grisly scar. But what he found instead was a bewildering set of matching symbols on each cheek. He leaned in, inspecting the new purple marks under his eyes, shaped like upside-down tears. They seemed to be stamped into his skin, almost like ink, but he couldn't wipe them off no matter how hard he scrubbed, and they didn't wash away no matter how much soap he used. They were permanent. Axel didn't have to wonder why Saïx had painted the marks on his face like some sort of clown. The man vowed to dry his tears for good, and this spell must have been intended for that purpose. In a way, Axel figured he ought to feel grateful that he'd never have to cry again, and for such a small price. Perhaps now, he'd find some peace in letting go of the past and moving forward with what he still had.

As he lay in bed, alone with his thoughts, he could still feel the dampness in his pillow from earlier — the last tears he would ever cry. He waited for the warm embrace of sleep to take him, to save him from that lingering ache of loss. But, to his dismay, sleep never came to him. Still awake, still awash in grief and sorrow, but now lacking the ability to experience the necessary release of crying, Axel came to the staggering realization of just what he had lost. He thought Saïx had freed him from mourning, from sorrow and from pain. But, in an act of unmatched cruelty, Saïx had done the exact opposite. He had trapped Axel in his own anguish, robbing him of his only method to cope. With one wave of his hand, he had doomed Axel to an eternity of locking away his pain, nursing his wounds in silence, and with no hope of relief in sight.

Axel clutched the wet pillow close to his face, pressing those remaining tears against his cheek. He wished for nothing more than to weep for his own sake, to collapse into a fit of sobs until it hurt to breathe. He longed for one last opportunity to cry himself to sleep, to truly feel the agony of this new loss. But, finally as numb and empty as a Nobody ought to be, he could only rest there, wide awake as the damp patch dried up, and that last pool of tears slowly evaporated from existence.

* * *

"Alright, Axel… How's it feel?"

Axel rotated his arm in every direction multiple times, turning and twisting the joint to its absolute limits before letting it fall to his side again. "Stiff," he answered. "But better. I can work with it."

Satisfied, Zexion nodded and took down a few notes. "Ice it before you go to sleep, and once more when you wake up. Your shift is first thing in the morning?"

Axel couldn't help but smirk in response. "Hope Xigbar will be patient with me."

Apparently having missed the joke, Zexion only lowered his eyes as he adjusted the bandages around Axel's healing joints. He'd been quiet for most of the examination, which came as no surprise. The news about Vexen's situation shook the Organization as a whole, but none more so than Zexion, and it was no great secret that this new update had stuck in his mind. Axel sympathized greatly, but for the moment he wasn't sure which would be the right words to say to him.

"You worried?"

"Of course not," Zexion answered flatly, collecting his instruments and strolling around the lab to put them away. "You're all set, Axel. Take it easy for the night and come back if it bothers you again."

"Zexion, wait."

The apprentice froze in his tracks, avoiding eye contact with his comrade, but quite clearly still listening. Axel wrung his hands for a moment, hesitating with his plea. "If anything happens to Roxas while I'm gone…"

Zexion turned to him with a solemn expression, acknowledging his unfinished request in a quiet and understanding tone. "I'll take good care of him."

Axel smiled. "Thanks."

It was getting late. The castle was almost depressingly empty as the search teams worked in double shifts, all hours of the day and night. It wasn't a new experience to traverse the halls in such heavy silence, but there was something different about this sense of quiet that permeated their home. It gave Axel chills, as if he were walking through a still, grayscale painting.

He should have gone to bed, but he was much too agitated to sleep. He'd not heard much from Roxas since the Agrabah mission, and couldn't decide whether it was a smart move or a dumb one to avoid the kid now. He knew Roxas was angry. Roxas had every right to be angry, and he showed a generous amount of patience, given the circumstances. Axel wished he had the courage to go and face him now, but wouldn't have known what to say. The last thing he wanted to do was make anything worse. Not when he might have had so little time left. Axel swallowed hard, biting back a sudden clench in the back of his throat, grimacing at a sourness in his mouth.

However, that same hesitation didn't seem to apply to his standing with Saïx. Though the man was equally distant, with the space between them growing wider every minute, Axel had no trouble pursuing him. He'd chased the man all over the castle for days, only to be met with rejection at every avenue. But he was no stranger to Saïx's cold shoulder, and the sting of his spurning had dulled considerably by comparison to that of Roxas'. Rather than wallow in sadness and self-pity, Axel made room for some anger of his own. Every door slammed in his face stoked the fire of his frustrations, and he wasn't about to hang his head and surrender a second time while the coals were still hot. If Saïx wanted to push him away, he was going to have to try harder than that.

Axel stuck out his chin and marched right to Saïx's bedroom door and knocked as loudly as was permissible within the limits of being polite. There was no response. Several more unanswered knocks led him to open the door and find the room completely empty. Neither could the man be found in the Grey Area, nor Addled Impasse. A thorough scan of every common area in the castle turned up no results, until Axel reached the Hall of Empty Melodies. To his delight, Saïx was there, training with his claymore on a series of ceramic jars, shirtless.

It was a truly breathtaking sight, and Axel could have just stood in the doorway and watched as the man's glistening physique flexed with every swing of his weapon, but he knew that he'd be noticed sooner or later, and he had sought Saïx out for other reasons than to ogle at him. "Well, that's just not fair."

Saïx turned at the sound of Axel's voice, catching his breath. The way he stood idle for a moment, lowering his weapon and shooting his guest a well-practiced smolder — he almost appeared to be striking a pose. Axel swooned so hard he nearly lost his balance and leaned heavily into the door frame to recover. Following his eyes, Saïx glanced down at himself, raising his eyebrow and almost smirking. "You could look like this too, if you used a heavier weapon."

Axel laughed as he sauntered toward his chiseled comrade with an exaggerated sway of his hips. "Yeah, and then I'd have a perpetually sore wrist, too."

"Hmph," Saïx scoffed, closing the gap between them. "Not if I had anything to say about it."

The two were practically nose to nose. Axel could see every bead of sweat shimmering on Saïx's chest, every blue hair on his head that had fallen out of place. Every tense muscle that hadn't yet relaxed, every vein that swelled beneath his flushed skin. He lost track of the seconds he spent just staring, watching the man's breaths gradually slow to a normal pace. For what he gained as a consolation prize, this first match — the test of his composure — was one that Axel was glad to have lost.

"Welp, now I'm hard," he said, grinning as he admitted defeat. "This is awkward."

"I'm not in the mood," Saïx broke the stand-off, readied his claymore and swung at a few more pots. "What do you want, Lea?"

"I wanted to talk."

The man only glanced at him briefly before returning to his training. "Alright. I'm listening."

"You've been avoiding me."

Without acknowledging him, Saïx conjured up another set of clay jars and practiced a different attack. After a long pause, he finally responded to the accusation with a flat tone and expressionless face, putting up the same front that Axel thought he had learned to puncture through. "I've been busy."

"Give me a break, Isa. You know I can see right through you. Just be straight with me and tell me what's going on."

Saïx continued to train without looking at him, and Axel decided enough was enough. Seeing that words wouldn't get through, he tried a more drastic approach. In as grandiose a manner as possible, he dragged down the zipper of his own coat. When he had gained Saïx's attention, he let it fall off his shoulders and into a heap at his feet before summoning his chakrams with a flourish. Just for show, he cast a ribbon of flames which danced around him for a few seconds before burning out. With his message delivered, he opened his stance and waited for his opponent to respond.

Saïx shook his head, sticking his claymore into the ground and refusing his invitation to spar. "Come on, Lea, not with your injuries…"

Axel paid no heed to his rejection and tossed a flaming chakram directly at him without warning. Saïx reacted quickly and without even flinching. He swiftly raised his claymore and blocked the attack with ease, much to Axel's chagrin. Axel recalled the weapon and took a few challenging steps in his direction, daring him to decline again. After several seconds of staring daggers in silence, Saïx finally relented with a sigh. "Alright, fine. Come at me."

Axel's shoulder was still stiff, but he managed pretty well despite the handicap. He lunged at Saïx with a sweeping draw of his chakrams, to which Saïx parried and swiped at him from behind. He dodged with a flying leap, taking aim and tossing a chakram from the air. Saïx blocked again, waiting for Axel to come down before rushing at him with his claymore at the ready. They became a tangled knot of clashing weapons, thrashing bodies and flailing limbs, fighting such an even match that it could have been choreographed. The battle was exhilarating for both of them, each man flashing a competitive grin with every blow they managed to land. They hadn't trained together since they were kids, fooling around with weapons that were too big and too heavy, performing extravagant stunts that had more than once resulted in grisly injuries for the both of them. As just a couple of rowdy boys, it was some of the most fun they could have had without hearts, and many times they weathered the broken bones and relentless scolding with smiles on their faces, just glad to have experienced the thrill of the fight together. Now, as adults, they revisited those moments — those memories — in perfect harmony with one another, playing their game with just as much reckless abandon as the wild teens they used to be.

Saïx swung his weapon low and sent a shock wave rippling over the floor around him. Axel jumped into another aerial cartwheel, executing an impressive blind throw of his chakrams behind his own back. Momentarily stunned, Saïx watched with admiration as his garish adversary soared gracefully above him and effortlessly stuck his landing before catching his weapons like a pair of boomerangs. He was just preparing another attack when, without warning, Axel staggered slightly to the side, unsteady on his feet. He clutched at his shoulder, wincing and doubling over as his chakrams clattered to the ground.

"Lea!" Saïx raced to his side, bending down to examine his injury. As soon as he was close enough, Axel whipped around and landed a heavy blow from behind, knocking Saïx on his back. With his opponent subdued, Axel climbed over the top of his torso and straddled him, chakrams crossed at his throat. "Now, talk."

He cast a circle of flames around the pair to emphasize his frustration and make his point clear. Saïx, breathless, narrowed his eyes at him, barely managing to spit out his response as his chest heaved under Axel's weight. "That's cheating."

"And what did you learn?"

Saïx propped himself up on his elbows as Axel dismissed his weapons and climbed off of him, maintaining his stern glare until the man finally spoke up. "Lea, what are we?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are we trying this again?"

Axel hesitated, scratching his head in thought. "I don't know. Do you want to?"

"I'm not sure."

He offered Saïx a hand up, pulling him back to his feet. At last, he'd got the man talking, and it was exactly the subject he'd hoped they might discuss. But, to his dismay, the answers were not as clear as they should have been. The two were still walking through their memories, hopelessly lost, watching with melancholy as their younger selves would spar and laugh for hours on end. The two would be sent on missions together, always competing over how many targets they'd each slain. It never mattered, as they could always look forward to that satisfying warmth of their fingers tangling together after the weapons were laid down and they returned home, hand in hand. They lingered in that time, remembering how they would sneak away to the clock tower just in time to catch the sunset. Sometimes, Axel would be so engrossed by the view that his ice cream would begin to melt, and rather than warn him about the droplets running over his knuckles, Saïx would simply lean over and steal a bite. Most times, Axel would jokingly threaten to shove him off the ledge, and in turn, he was always met with the perfect response — one that would never get old.

_If I go down, I'm taking you with me._

Saïx had been pacing the floor for a few moments with his arms crossed as he reminisced alongside his partner. After a while, he spoke up again, sounding almost hopeful. "Is that what you want?"

"Honestly," Axel sighed, shaking his head as the pleasant images began to fade. "I don't really know either."

It was a safe answer, but not necessarily the right one. Those sweet, indulgent days were too few, and the trip down memory lane came to an abrupt halt at the very moment they'd fallen out. Axel had done his time wondering what really happened, examining his own mistakes and living with the repercussions. But despite the passage of time, he found that the wounds didn't hurt any less than they had all those years ago. For the two of them to reunite would risk the reopening of those very wounds, and Axel figured he wasn't alone in his hesitant and somewhat doubtful approach. He looked to Saïx, expecting to be met with the man's signature emotionless logic, but instead was shocked by the sight of his face falling and his eyes downcast.

"Then, we probably shouldn't."

Saïx hurried to the other end of the room to retrieve his coat, but Axel stopped him with a hand on his arm, gently coaxing him back around to face him. "Isa… What would be the difference either way?" he asked persuasively. "If we decided we wanted to go that route, what would change? Would we share a room? Hold hands? Pick out curtains together? You want me to have your babies?"

Annoyed, Saïx brushed him off and continued his trek. "There you go again. It's all just a joke to you."

Axel caught him by the wrist, appealing to him in an apologetic but pleading tone. "No, Isa, it isn't. It never was."

Having no more patience for Axel's games, Saïx wrestled out of his grip and put some distance between them, crossing his arms again and barely concealing his anger. "I don't see why we're even having this conversation. We don't have hearts. We can't love anything or anyone. We're just warm bodies, the occasional empty fuck and nothing more."

Axel winced at the sting of his remarks. "Is that really all you see in me now?"

Axel could tell his question had affected the man the very moment the words passed his lips. Saïx was not facing him, and at first Axel only saw his frame clench with a sharp intake of breath. Several seconds passed without a sound while he stood completely rigid, scarcely moving a muscle. Tense enough to snap in two, he visibly trembled in place, teetering on the brink of total collapse. For a moment, Axel wondered if he was about to be sick. Saïx's breathing was heavy and loud, almost wheezing so hard that it carried his whole torso with every labored inhale.

"Isa…? Are you alright?"

Axel soon realized what was happening, watching in horror as Saïx sank to his knees with his face in his hands. His shoulders began to heave violently as pitiful sobs and whimpers erupted from him. He was crying. Axel couldn't believe it. Saïx was openly weeping into his palms, right there on the floor. Before he could recover from the shock, Axel sprang into action, rushing to his friend's side and kneeling beside him. "Hey, come here…"

Saïx pushed him away when he attempted to slide his arms around him. "Don't…"

"Isa, it's okay—"

"You don't understand…" Saïx kept his head down, sniffling and wiping his face. He was hardly able to speak between huffing and gasping, and the tears continued to pour down his face faster than he could brush them away. Axel had never seen him like this in all the time they'd known each other. This inevitable crash was almost frightening to witness, knowing how much pain he was in and for how long he'd kept it bottled up. "Lea… we can't…"

"Why not? At least tell me that."

Saïx took a long, shaky breath. "Xemnas…"

"What about him?"

"Xemnas knows… He is watching…" he explained in fragments, barely coherent among his stifled sobs. "He uses you as leverage to test my loyalty…"

"What? What do you mean?"

Saïx turned away, avoiding the subject and leaving Axel to question with growing concern just what was being done to him to scare him this much. They'd known Xemnas for years. The man was a cunning leader — an excellent showman of false compassion, but a ruthless authoritarian under the surface. He wasn't the type to simply torture someone, and Saïx wasn't one who might easily break under such circumstances. As he sat and worked through the puzzle, Axel remembered the brief talk he'd had with Zexion. Whatever was going on, Zexion knew, but how had he become privy to such a personal conundrum when Saïx wouldn't even tell Axel — his best friend, someone he'd loved in a past life? Either he willingly shared everything with the young apprentice, or Zexion found out on his own. The moment that thought crossed his mind, the whole picture became clearer for Axel. He began to understand in bits and pieces what Saïx might have been talking about, and now pressed him for the rest of the story.

"Isa," Axel's request was soft, but stern. "What happened that night in Addled Impasse?"

Saïx's eyes widened at his question. "How did you know—?"

"Tell me, Isa. You owe me that much."

If there was any color left in Saïx's face, it drained away in an instant. He dropped his head with a shuddering sigh, drawing out the silence to stall for time. Finally, after nearly a minute of hesitation and wringing his hands, he opened his mouth to speak. "Do you remember the day I got the scar?"

Axel winced at the memory. "I try not to."

"I was a foolish child," he hissed. "I asked Xemnas to relieve my pain. He rewarded me with this wretched mark."

Saïx spat out every word with audible disgust in his voice, reliving the memory one agonizing moment at a time. "He told me the moon was a gift. He promised me peace. In my weakest moment, when I was awash in grief and anguish, he offered to quell my sorrows. I was desperate, Lea."

Axel listened as his companion recounted the harrowing tale. His own memories of that fateful evening were no more pleasant. Their last conversation was a mess of misspoken words and biting accusations, an argument that circled in an endless loop and ultimately went nowhere. Axel, dizzy from the spiraling, believed he had no choice but to give up for the night and hope that maybe they could patch things up later on after they had time to think. He'd spent the entire night crying in bed, only to wake up the next morning to see a stranger standing in Saïx's body. Pointed ears, yellow eyes, and a deep wound on his face. The man was completely unrecognizable. Axel recalled quite vividly the guilt, knowing that he was responsible for the hideous transformation. The image would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"That night, in Addled Impasse…" Saïx continued. "Xemnas brought me back to that moment all those years ago. He used my own memories against me to inflict that same pain and fear that I felt back then. He weakened me, and then he…" He paused as his voice broke. Tears leaked from his eyes again as he swallowed down the knot in his throat and delivered his confession. "Xemnas can control me using the moon. He forced me to berserk, and he pointed me right at you… just to warn me of what would happen if I were ever to defy him."

Axel's jaw dropped as the stunning realization came over him. "All those times when you said you didn't know what triggered it…"

"He was behind every one of them," Saïx was crying again, dragging his wrist across his face and sniffling loudly as he finished his story. "I found reports that detailed the process. I was just another one of his experiments… This wound is the doorway through which he can invade my body. He's been spying on me. Following me wherever I go, listening to my thoughts, watching my every move…"

Axel reeled at the enormity of Saïx's revelation. "Then… he knows. He knows everything."

It would probably take Axel the rest of the week to process everything he'd just learned. For almost ten years, he wondered what had happened to the friend he'd grown up with, the shy boy who made him laugh when no one else was around to catch him smiling. He missed what they had, and after a long while, he was content with just the memories. But, Axel found, he couldn't live with the questions. He wouldn't let a lifelong relationship — the deepest love he'd ever felt — be thrown away without a reason. Now, the wait was over, and his questions were finally answered. Saïx was more than just Isa's Nobody. He was a combination of two beings — the shadow of his former self, merged with pieces of someone else. It was unclear just why Saïx had been chosen, and Axel wasn't sure he wanted to know, but his old friend — Isa — was no more. He'd become a victim of the only form of torture to which Xemnas might stoop. The Superior had found Saïx's weakness and exploited it until he had broken him completely. In exchange for his obedience, Saïx was granted the moon's power, which increased his strength and liberated him from pain. But it was that same power which Xemnas used to manipulate him, to exert control over him. Over the years, he chipped away at Isa bit by bit until he was swallowed up entirely by the new identity that had formed in its place — Saïx. The perfect puppet.

Xemnas' plan of wiping a person clean had already come to fruition, and Saïx was the end result. Why, then, was the experiment with Roxas being continued? What was the Superior really after? And, if what happened in Addled Impasse was merely a warning shot, what would a full-blown punishment entail?

"Isa, we can get through this," Axel assured him. "We can find a way to—"

Saïx pushed Axel off of him, shaking his head as he climbed to his feet. His despair now replaced with rage, he picked up an untouched ceramic pot left over from the training session and hurled it to the floor, shattering it into pieces with a thunderous crash. Axel stood and cautiously approached him, gently gripping his shoulder without saying another word. He could feel the man's body trembling with fury and sorrow, could hear the hiss of his breath as he fought off the onslaught of more tears.

"I want you, Lea. I want you more than anything," he whispered in desperation. "But I can't have you. Not if it puts you in danger. I won't let him harm you."

"Isa, I can take care of myself. You don't have to worry about me."

"Don't underestimate him. You know what he's capable of."

"And anything he could do to me would be nothing compared to spending forever without you."

Saïx jerked out of Axel's grasp and threw on his coat. "I'm sorry, Lea. Things can't be the way they were before. I can't risk losing you again."

"Isa, wait! Please!"

Saïx pulled his hood up and stormed out without looking back. Axel, defeated, let him go, not knowing what else he could have said to convince him otherwise. "You never lost me… I've always been here…"

Another lie, spoken to an empty room. Axel was alone again, just listening to the sound of his memories replaying themselves over and over. Terrible company, those images, those words. But soon, it would be all he had. Axel was a man of absolutes. Things that were permanent, lasting. He lived for words like "forever." "Immortal." "Always." Naive as it could be, Axel danced through life in a perfect world where happiness and bliss would never cease. Where hope and dreams would never die. In his foolishness, he let himself believe that relationships, whether they be romantic or platonic, could be unending. But the cold blow of reality caught up to him eventually, and he was forced to accept the limits imposed by the universe itself. He had no choice but to come to terms with the fact that people didn't last forever, that friendship didn't last forever, that _love_ didn't last forever. But memories… Memories were forever. He'd found his perfect loophole and vowed to reclaim his permanence within people's memories.

Hours later, as he lay awake in bed, he reflected on that promise, that last bit of permanence that he could cling to. Even that purpose had betrayed him now, as he discovered that his own memories were just as boundless. Inside his mind lay a record of almost a decade's worth of events he never wanted to remember. It was a term he often neglected — 'never' — but the meaning, the permanence, was the same. Memories were the only thing he wouldn't lose. Even though they would bite and sting like pins in his chest, even as he wished for them to disappear, his memories would never die.

_I've always been here… _

* * *

This chapter has been written for almost a year, and today I can finally post it! I've waited so long because I just love this scene and I'm thrilled that you'll finally get to read it!

Thank you so much for putting in the time to read, to click the kudos button, to leave a comment, and to support my passion! I cherish you all!

Some heavy things are coming up in this story. Make sure you are following this story and don't miss it! You can also find me on twitter and tumblr, and I've got a great discord server where my friends and I celebrate our love for Kingdom Hearts! discord /ffy5E8G

Peace and Love,

Ostelan


	32. Calm Before the Storm

The clock stood frozen at 8:43 in the evening, tormenting him with the illusion of passing time. A brand new mirror hung on the wall by the closet, innocently shimmering in the fluorescents overhead. An untouched bowl of soup sat on his desk, growing colder by the second. His hand, heavily bandaged and still a bit sore, hung lazily off the edge of the bed. At times, it seemed as though Roxas lived in perpetual stillness, with the only motion being the slow rise and fall of his chest with every breath, and the occasional flutter of his eyelids. If he listened closely enough, he could hear a soft thumping in his chest, dampening the silence with its mesmerizing rhythm. With nothing else to do, he would often count the beats and measure the spaces between, if only to stave off the boredom.

What little activity he could experience was the almost constant movement inside his belly as the restless entity tossed and turned with a maddening frequency, often depriving him of appetite, sleep, and sanity. At random intervals, the pains cut into him sharply like razor blades, frightening him with their intensity. Roxas would grit his teeth and plead with the thing to tell him why it was hurting him, receiving only more silence in response. And yet, after so many months, he couldn't bring himself to resent the creature for its nuisance, as it was often the only company he had, the only sign of life among the stillness. Despite the burden it was to carry, as time went on, it became more and more difficult for Roxas to hate it.

Desperate for something to occupy his mind, Roxas picked up his journal, intending to write an entry. Since the incident with the mirror, it was still a challenge to hold a pencil with the hand that he'd mutilated, but Zexion — between instances of scolding him for injuring himself — would insist that he document everything he could. But, when he flipped to the first empty page, Roxas really had nothing to say. If anything, he'd have rather talked to Axel. He hadn't seen the man in days. Not since the Agrabah mission, after Roxas had lost his temper and blown up at everyone. Guilt tugged at him as he remembered the defeated expression on Axel's face, knowing that the last thing he said to his friend was something so biting and laced with such contempt. He'd have taken it back in a heartbeat if he could. When he heard that Axel would be joining the search for Vexen the next morning, Roxas couldn't help but feel worried for him. If nothing else, it would have been nice to wish him luck.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock. Before he could answer it, the door opened and Xemnas was there, standing ominously on the other side of the threshold. Roxas' jaw dropped, unsure of how to greet his Superior on his rare and unexpected visit. Xemnas stepped through the doorway in silence with his hands clasped behind him, looking somewhat uncomfortable to be in the room once he was inside. His eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings without comment or notable expression. But, despite his apparent uneasiness, he was still quite intimidating in almost every way. Seeing him so close, it was easy to forget what a large man he was.

"Am I intruding?"

Roxas gulped. "Uh… N-No, sir… I was just writing in my journal," he glanced down at the blank page in front of him, flexing his stiff hand. "Well… at least, I was trying to."

Xemnas raised an eyebrow. "I see."

Roxas studied the man just as much as he studied Roxas, both just staring at each other with no regard for social awkwardness. Xemnas was always mysterious, his thoughts expertly shrouded inside his impenetrable mind. But now, there was something different about the way he was looking at Roxas. There was some sort of crack in the facade, just wide enough to permit Roxas a peek inside. It was the first time he had ever seen the man appear to be uncertain of anything, the first time he'd displayed even a glimmer of confusion. For a moment, it seemed that Xemnas had as many questions as Roxas did.

"Have they found Vexen?"

Xemnas shook his head slowly. "Unfortunately, they have not."

Roxas was not surprised by the news, but shuddered nonetheless. "What happens if…?"

"You needn't concern yourself with that," Xemnas spoke up when his words trailed off. "We wouldn't want to cause any undue stress in your condition."

_Sigh. _ "Right."

Roxas crossed his arms, falling back into his pillow in a huff. As aggravating as it was, he supposed there would be no end to the coddling. His conversation with Saïx — at least, the parts he remembered — had opened his eyes. For the first time, he entertained the notion that perhaps his comrades were genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. Maybe, like the brothers he thought them to be, they _cared _about him. But, Roxas could not suspend his disbelief far enough to include Xemnas in that hypothesis.

"So… Why are you here?"

Xemnas answered rather flatly. "Curiosity."

"Huh?"

It was then that the man began to move, taking slow steps around the room and quietly observing the pristine environment in which Roxas lived. "For ten years we have lived without hearts, blissfully free of the burden of human emotions. But I have watched those emotions begin to creep back into even my most hardened agents. Relationships have formed and dissipated. Love has blossomed and wilted. Compassion and empathy have awakened and been tested. And it all began with you."

Roxas' breath hitched as he listened to Xemnas' eerie monologue. "Me? What do you mean?"

"This is why you are unique, Roxas. There is no question that you are able to feel the entire spectrum of human emotions. For a Nobody, it is unheard of. It should be impossible. Yet, it is the undeniable truth. Moreover, it would appear that you are able to influence your comrades and reactivate their dormant emotions as well. Even I have not been spared…"

Xemnas paused, laying a hand over his chest. He appeared to be deep in thought, looking almost troubled for a moment. "It is entirely possible that the entity which lives inside of you is responsible for this phenomenon. The heart that we had hoped it would absorb is one of great power. It is reasonable to conclude that its proximity would have an effect on those who do not have hearts of their own, acting almost… as a surrogate."

Roxas was floored by the man's words. Even _he _had not been spared? Xemnas, the Superior of the In-Between, a man with such disdain for humanity, was openly admitting to having felt what he believed were true, human emotions? "What are you feeling, Lord Xemnas?"

His question was met with a very long and heavy pause. "Nothing."

A sudden thrash in Roxas' abdomen punctuated the response. It was not one of the clenching pains he'd been having, but a writhing spell of movement, as if the entity inside him had decided to perform a backflip. Roxas gasped, clutching his belly as the wind was knocked out of him.

Xemnas' eyes widened slightly. "What is it?"

It took a few seconds for Roxas to catch his breath. "S-Sorry, sir… it just jumped."

Another drawn-out silence followed while Xemnas stared at him with a peculiar look on his face.

"Roxas… May I?"

Roxas wasn't sure what he meant at first, but it quickly dawned on him that the Superior wanted to touch him, to feel the creature wriggling inside him. Anyone else and Roxas would have refused outright, and it was quite a shock that Xemnas was even asking his permission. But, Roxas wondered to himself, what was Xemnas searching for? Although he was certain that it must be more than simply wanting to feel the thing move, Roxas could sense no malice in the man's intentions — just the same curiosity that he readily confessed only moments ago. Perhaps it was that curiosity which he sought to satisfy now — the desire to understand this creature that dwelled inside Roxas' body for so many months. The idea was admittedly unsettling, but Roxas could allow the invasion just this once.

"Y-yeah… okay…"

He leaned back onto his pillow, at first just staring at the wall as he waited for the Superior to get it over with. He felt the shifting in weight as Xemnas lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress. Several seconds of silence passed. Puzzled about the delay, he stole a glance to find the man looking stiff and hesitant as he tugged off his gloves. He didn't look at Roxas, even avoiding eye contact as he finally reached forward to touch him. His approach was quite slow, and he seemed to pause several times along the way, but after a few tense moments, he gingerly laid his hands over Roxas' abdomen.

The very moment Xemnas' fingers grazed his belly, a sudden cascade of images flooded into Roxas' head. Memories, he presumed, and although he didn't recognize any of the people he saw, there was a certain familiarity to them, as if he'd known them in a past life. He examined them from a distance, squinting as their blurry forms came into focus. Roxas could make out a taller man with a muscular build, a woman with gentle eyes, and a boy with a face that matched his own. They were lounging on a grassy hill, gazing up at the night sky with smiles on their faces. This was a world to which Roxas had never been, but it was a beautiful landscape, unlike any he'd seen before. The veil of blackness overhead, studded by gleaming stars, was a breathtaking sight.

The memories played like films for him, and Roxas stood in every scene as a quiet observer, like walking inside someone else's dream. The trio shared deep and meaningful conversations which Roxas could not hear, but the sound of laughter in their voices was warm and brimming with affection. He could sense the bond between them, a closeness the likes of which he'd never known, something much stronger than friendship. Each of them possessed a fierce protectiveness for the other two, such that Roxas knew any one of them would fight, kill, and even die for their companions.

The scene changed. The trio were now in the middle of a large plaza in a town Roxas didn't recognize. The midday sun beat down on their backs in the heat of battle against what looked like a giant Heartless. To Roxas' surprise, they were fighting with keyblades. The weapons were different from his own, but seemed to work the same way, and he could tell that these people were more than capable wielders. Together, they vanquished the enemy, and their faces beamed with victory. But as Roxas looked on, the mood began to shift. Their once-hopeful conversations grew heavy, transforming into a heated argument. With sullen faces, Roxas watched them separate and go their own ways, leaving only an air of sadness and heartbreak behind.

"This… is remarkable…" he heard Xemnas whisper from what sounded like a fair distance, though he hadn't left his place on the bed.

Roxas tilted his head. "Sir…?"

The Superior was deeply concentrating with his eyes tightly closed. Roxas wondered if the two of them were watching the same memories. The next scene was even more solemn than the last. His identical counterpart was kneeling on the ground before a regal-looking man in flowing robes. The man's expression was piteous and forlorn as he held a keyblade high over his head, clearly intending to strike the boy down like an executioner. Just as he was swinging his weapon to finish off the condemned, a voice halted him. It was the boy's friend — the man from the trio had come to rescue his companion. After tossing the boy through a dark corridor, he went into a blind rage, engaging the older man in a suspenseful battle and annihilating him in retaliation. With his opponent dead, Roxas could feel the sting in the man's heart as he sank to his knees in grief, and a heavy darkness began to consume the world around him.

The images faded to black with the sound of a soft gasp. Xemnas had lifted his hands and opened his eyes, apparently shocked by something. Wearing a face that seemed not to belong to him, emitting emotions that couldn't possibly have been his own, the Superior focused his gaze directly on Roxas' eyes and spoke in the soft voice of a perfect stranger.

"V-Ven?"

Unsettled by the sudden transformation, and unsure if he'd heard the man correctly, Roxas recoiled slightly. "Huh?"

Without another word, the Superior returned his hands to Roxas' abdomen and the memories continued. The last set of images were much less clear than the ones preceding them. The first thing Roxas noticed was the new setting — a barren wasteland with a sun that burned as hot as that of Agrabah. As far and wide as he could see was nothing but dirt and rock, but what truly staggered him to his core was the sight of metal glinting in the daylight — the rusted hilts of keyblades stuck into the sand. There were more than he could ever count. For the moment, Roxas just stared at them in complete shock, never having dreamed that such a weapon could have had so many wielders once upon a time. Now, he could only wonder, with deep foreboding, what had happened to them all.

Roxas jumped from character to character, catching glimpses of each member in the trio struggling through their own losing battles. The woman fought a man with a partially obscured face — familiar, but too blurry to identify. Elsewhere, the muscular man was up against an elderly gentleman with a sinister glare in his eyes. There was a thick and palpable sense of despair saturating the atmosphere, putting considerable strain on the bonds between the three friends' hearts. But, though he tried to bring the scene into focus, Roxas couldn't make out the finer details of what was happening. All he could see was a blur of weapons clashing and bodies flying in all directions — a showdown between powerful forces on each side.

Hopelessness weighed heavily on the trio the longer each battle dragged on. When the scene shifted again, Roxas was placed beside the boy who looked like him. Up close, he could finally see that the two really were identical, right down to every last feature. But Roxas knew in his gut that this boy was not him, no matter how similar his appearance. His battle was with another young boy, roughly the same size, wearing a dark helmet, and also using a uniquely-designed keyblade. It was an even match, and Roxas could feel the tension from both fighters, as if they were fighting for their very existence. It was that motivation which set them apart from the others, the desperation to survive. But at the same time, Roxas could sense a futility to this particular battle, and therein was the source of the hopelessness — the cruel reality that neither of these boys were meant to win. That even if one defeated the other, nobody would be walking away as the victor.

The boy with the helmet was floating in the center of the ring, laughing maniacally as he removed his mask. As expected, his face was unfamiliar. He had glowing yellow eyes and a menacing grin, framed by spiky, jet-black hair. He readied his keyblade, preparing to strike, but when Roxas turned to see what his counterpart would do, the boy was gone. He scanned the arena in search of him, but there was no sign of him anywhere. The now-unmasked foe had come closer, his weapon brandished for an attack. It dawned on Roxas then that the boy was looking right at him, and he understood that he was now standing in the position of his counterpart. He'd taken his place, was holding his keyblade and seeing everything through his eyes. His opponent, none the wiser, was now advancing at top speed. Just as he arrived to lay down a devastating blow, everything blinked into darkness again.

Roxas opened his eyes and was back in his bed, breathless and with a rapid pounding in his chest. It was as if he'd awakened from a nightmare, complete with the convincing illusion of real danger. But unlike any dream, he could remember every moment of his time spent in those memories. Roxas sat up in bed to find that Xemnas was still there, hands folded in his lap and staring contemplatively at the floor.

Roxas had seen all of those people before. Perhaps he hadn't met them, but he knew their faces. They were the people from the mirror. The strangers who stood beside his reflection when he least expected them to appear. And now, however it had come to pass, Roxas realized that those people — the protective man carrying the heaviest of burdens, the insecure woman forced to grow up too fast, and the young boy who fought his own destiny and lost — were from Xemnas' memories. Those strangers who seemed to follow Roxas whenever he was alone had some connection to the Superior's Somebody.

"Xemnas," Roxas asked quietly. "Who was Ventus?"

Xemnas did not answer, instead appearing to wince and turn away.

"Please, tell me!"

The pain struck very suddenly, low in Roxas' abdomen. It was far more intense than any of the previous spasms he'd experienced, like that of a fist closing tightly around his guts. All the breath was squeezed out of him with one raspy cry, and he struggled for several moments to regain it as the wrenching pressure pulsed inside his belly. All the while, Xemnas just stood there, watching. Roxas' wide, terrified eyes pleaded with him for help, but the man spoke not a word, just looking on in horror as the subject of his cruel experiment writhed in pain before him.

There was no longer any comfort in imagining the Clock Tower. No matter how hard he concentrated, Roxas could not feel the warmth of the sunset or taste the refreshing ice cream. He couldn't see Axel's smile or hear his voice. All around him was thick, unyielding darkness. He was completely paralyzed, as if frozen in a block of ice. Above him was the face of a woman with tears in her eyes — the same woman from the barrage of memories. Haunting laughter could be heard in the background. The boy who'd worn the helmet was floating some distance away, calling out a name he couldn't hear. He reached for Roxas in desperation as he helplessly sank into the void, wearing not a menacing grin, but a chilling expression of fear on his face. For the first time, Roxas pitied him, but by the time he had the clarity of thought to extend his hand and pull the boy to safety, he was gone.

It took almost a full minute for the pain to dissipate, and Roxas was left sweating and panting heavily when it was over. His vision returned slowly, the bright lights and bare walls creeping in little by little. Xemnas was nowhere to be found. He was alone yet again, and part of him couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't dreamt the whole thing up. He checked the clock, finding that it was just past nine in the evening. The now-cold bowl of soup still sat on his desk. His journal lay open to the same empty page. Roxas was content to live with the mystery, and was about to close the notebook and put it away when something caught his eye. The page that was previously blank now had a small drawing on it. A symbol that looked like some sort of flower, etched lightly in pencil in the bottom-right corner of the page. Roxas had never seen it before, and couldn't possibly have drawn it himself. Who else could have put it there? Was it Zexion? Axel? Xemnas?

Roxas' skin began to crawl the longer he looked at the picture. Feeling a little unsettled, he decided to take a walk to clear his head and ease his nerves. The castle was largely empty, leading him to believe that everyone had gone to bed early. Although the quiet should have been peaceful, for Roxas it was disheartening to find the rest of the place just as lonely as his own bedroom. Briefly, he thought of seeking out Axel and patching things up. He was even half tempted to ask Saïx for more of that soothing tea. Ultimately, he ended up just roaming the halls until he eventually made it to the Grey Area. He'd expected to find it just as deserted as the rest of the castle, but was almost pleasantly surprised to see a few of his comrades there. Xigbar, Luxord, and Demyx were huddled around the coffee table, playing cards. When they caught sight of him approaching, they did not recoil at his presence. Instead, their faces lit up with warm, sincere smiles.

"Roxas!" Demyx greeted cheerfully. "What's up, man? It's good to see you up and about!"

Roxas was caught off-guard by their welcoming sentiments, and at first stammered a bit with his reply. "U-Um… Hi, guys… I was looking for Axel. Have any of you seen him?"

The men shared a look, their faces falling slightly. "Sorry, man," Demyx answered sadly. "Haven't seen him all day."

"He does have the early shift in the morning," Luxord said, leaning heavily toward Xigbar. "Perhaps he's already turned in for the night."

Xigbar whipped around and glared at him. "You got something to say, buddy?"

Luxord grinned slyly. "Nothing at all, dear."

Demyx patted the empty space on the sofa beside him, waving Roxas over. "Roxas, you want to play?"

"Uh… What are you playing?"

"Texas Hold'em," Xigbar announced proudly. "The only poker game worth remembering."

Luxord rolled his eyes as he shuffled the cards, barely biting back a retort to Xigbar's comment. Roxas was stuck in place for a moment, feeling unusually wary of taking them up on their offer. He'd never played cards before, and hadn't really spent much time with these guys at all. The only thing he really knew about the concept of leisure was having ice cream on the clock tower, and he began to wonder if this particular game was the equivalent activity for these three. Maybe this was their icing on the cake. Roxas took a deep breath and headed over to the spot Demyx indicated and sank into the cushion, eliciting friendly smiles from all of them.

"I'll help you out, Roxas," Demyx offered, sliding a stack of chips toward him before turning to Luxord. "Deal him in."

Not realizing he'd be thrown right in, Roxas tried to protest. "Wait, I don't—"

"Come on, it's fun!"

Luxord dealt him a hand to match the others, two cards that he wasn't meant to show any of the rest. The three gave him a quick run-down of the numbers and symbols and their values, skimming through the rules of the game so quickly that Roxas was more lost than when he'd first sat down.

"Place your bets, gentlemen."

Demyx tilted his head in Roxas' direction. "Okay, bud, you in or out?"

Roxas stared at the cards in his hand, trying to remember the rules. Mimicking the others, he tossed a chip in the center pile, hoping for the best. "Uh… I'll… stay in?"

Luxord set aside one overturned card and laid out three cards facing up, which Roxas now had to take under consideration when deciding whether to continue playing or quit. It was a challenge to keep track of not only the values, but the categories to which the cards belonged, and Roxas hadn't the slightest clue what he was doing, but he had to admit that it was thrilling to anticipate those moments where Luxord would lay another card on the table.

A few rounds in, Roxas was beginning to get the hang of it. He hadn't won at all, but he hadn't lost all of his chips yet, and that was enough of an accomplishment for his standards. One particular hand, everyone had folded but Demyx and Luxord. Fifty chips were on the line, and Demyx was staring daggers into Luxord's eyes, willing that he could see into his mind. Luxord casually stared back, unblinking and expressionless, waiting patiently for his opponent to make a mistake. His piercing gaze was intimidating, having thrown the musician off his game several times already. Roxas and Xigbar watched their silent duel with fascination, eager to see which of the two would bend. Ever the lousy competitor, Demyx forfeit the standoff and turned over his cards yet again.

"Fold."

Luxord gleefully swept pot toward himself, adding to his already towering pile of chips. As he shuffled the deck and prepared to deal another hand, Xigbar lit up a cigarette and leaned in toward Roxas. "He's got a poker face of steel, but watch his eyebrows, there's this thing they do—"

Luxord threw a handful of chips at the man who laughed heartily in response. "Easy! I'm just messing with ya. If I knew your tells, my pile of chips would look a lot more like yours!"

"I don't believe that's the only reason you're losing."

"Hey now, I've beat you plenty of times," he took a drag from his cigarette as he picked up his next set of cards. "I'm just having a run of bad luck this evening."

Luxord chuckled as he began the first round of bets. When it came around to Roxas' turn, he hesitated as he peered at his cards. He'd been given an eight of clubs and a king of hearts. Torn by the dilemma of having one good card and one average one, he wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. Several seconds of silence passed before Xigbar grew impatient, but Luxord raised a hand to silence his partner.

"Roxas, poker is a game of skill, chance, and personality. But it's also a game of confidence — of risk," the man advised. "Those who take no risks are seldom victorious."

"Besides, man, it's only chips! It's not like you're really risking anything but your pride."

Luxord narrowed his eyes at Xigbar. "Much to my chagrin. It's an insult for a man of my stature to be playing with worthless chips."

"Okay, I'm in," Roxas dropped a couple of chips in the pot. "I call."

"That's more like it," Luxord beamed. "Xigbar, will you be raising the stakes?"

"The way my evening's going? As if."

Luxord dealt the flop, opening the conversation to idle gossip as the wagers resumed. "So, it seems our situation has graduated from 'urgent' to 'desperate.' Double shifts for us all until Vexen is found."

"I heard even Saïx and Zexion might join if we get _really _screwed."

"What?" Demyx gulped audibly. "Even Zexion?"

"Might leave Roxas here all alone with the big boss," Xigbar chuckled lightly as he plunked a chip into the pile, raising an eyebrow at Roxas. "But don't worry, kiddo, he's not as scary as he looks."

"Uh…" Roxas shifted in his seat, trying to put the thoughts of his visit from earlier out of his mind. "Yeah…"

Demyx was frowning at the cards in his hand, eventually blowing a sharp sigh and flipping his cards a bit more forcefully than before. "Ugh, fold."

He slumped back in his seat with his arms crossed, looking more than a little disgruntled. Roxas wondered if he shouldn't say something, but now it was his turn to play. The flop was a promising collection of cards — a king of spades, an eight of diamonds, and a two of clubs. If Roxas remembered correctly, having two matching pairs was a good sign, and, his chest fluttering with excitement, he boldly dropped a few more chips into the center of the table. Luxord's eyes lit up with delight as another circle of bets commenced, but Xigbar had fixated on the forlorn-looking Demyx for the moment.

"Demyx, are you okay? You look sick, man."

Demyx blinked, lifting his head. "What? I'm fine."

"Something is troubling you. Care to get it off your chest?" Luxord asked as he laid down the turn — a six of spades.

"Yeah buddy, we're your friends!" Xigbar insisted. "Whatever's on your mind, you can tell us!"

Roxas could read Demyx's emotions quite prominently, but they were a bit of a mess. There were a multitude of different feelings tangled up inside him, and it was no wonder he wasn't speaking up. A handful of those emotions mirrored those Roxas had sensed from others — a great deal of anxiety stood at the forefront, dominating his thoughts as anxiety often did. Roxas could almost hear the racing in his mind as a flood of worst case scenarios played for him on a loop. To his surprise, Demyx's feelings reminded Roxas most of Saïx's plight — a warring cacophony of grief, longing, and fear. It was different for Demyx, not quite as mature, not quite as clear, and far more fresh than the years-long rot he'd found in Saïx. But the emotions, even young, new, and a bit unfocused, were certainly the budding precursors to the pain that Saïx and Axel were feeling. Roxas longed to prod the musician, to understand the source of his distress, but couldn't bring himself to overstep.

Demyx tried to placate them with an unconvincing bit of reassurance. "Really, guys, I'm fine."

"It's about Zexion, isn't it?"

It was Luxord who'd decided to pry. At the sound of Zexion's name, Demyx's brows shot up and the color drained from his face. "Wh-What? Zexion?"

"You think we don't know?" Xigbar laughed endearingly. "Come on, kid, we've been in the game for a hell of a long time. We can tell what's up."

Perplexed, Roxas turned to his companion with genuine curiosity. "What do they mean, Demyx?"

Demyx just sighed heavily and let his head sink onto the table. Luxord and Xigbar shared a brief laugh at his expense, but upon seeing that he wouldn't budge, they changed their tune. Looking piteous, Luxord softened his tone to put him at ease while Xigbar gently patted his back.

"It's not set in stone, Demyx. Besides, Saïx is quite a fighter. I'd say Zexion will be in pretty good hands."

Demyx didn't look up at either of them. "I know, I know… I just… I don't know…"

Luxord leaned in toward Xigbar and whispered under his breath. "This is adorable."

"I'm squealing on the inside."

"Knock it off, you two!"

Now, Roxas understood the emotions he'd been sensing. There was something between Demyx and Zexion — something special, reminiscent of that ache that Roxas felt between Axel and Saïx, and even in many ways similar to the graceful pull between Luxord and Xigbar. It was still quite a foreign sensation to Roxas, but whatever it was, it was quite powerful, regardless of what stage in its development. New and young, as with Demyx and Zexion. Tested and bruised, like with Saïx and Axel. Old and flourished as between Luxord and Xigbar. The strength of the emotion did not falter in the slightest between any of them — beautiful, but almost painful in how intense it could be.

Again, Roxas longed to interfere, to sate his own curiosity on the matter and understand this uniquely human and infuriatingly _adult _emotion that lay just outside his own grasp. But, as before, Roxas lacked the nerve to voice his questions, unwilling to interrupt the exchange between his comrades for the time being.

"Hey, kid, don't be mad," Xigbar said persuasively. "We're just teasing. We're really happy for you!"

"You've made us quite proud, my boy."

Demyx grumbled, recoiling from his companions as they reached for him. "Not in front of Roxas…!"

"Ah, let him look," Xigbar scoffed, tightly and affectionately wrapping an arm around the musician's shoulders. "Now, don't you worry 'bout a thing. Zexion will be just fine with a tank like Saïx protecting him. You just focus on your mission and let's bring our comrade home tomorrow, okay?"

The trio shared a long look before Demyx finally relented. "Okay."

"And hey, Daddy Xiggy is always here if you need to talk. Uncle Luxord, too. We care about you, sport."  
Demyx's cheeks began to turn a bit pink and his lips curled into a meek smile. "Thanks, guys."

"Shall we finish this hand, then?"

"Show us the river, baby."

The fifth card laid on the table was an eight of hearts, and Roxas felt his stomach drop the moment it came into view. Luxord allowed a moment for the remaining players to process the full set before turning to Xigbar, who only flipped over his cards with a solemn shake of his head. Roxas was next, his eyes burning into his cards. He couldn't quite remember the significance of having both a pair of cards along with three of the same value. Surely it carried some weight, but enough to defeat Luxord? Roxas didn't necessarily want to sacrifice more chips, but wasn't ready to back down, either.

"Check."

Luxord raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly as he picked up a few chips from his own pile and placed them in the center of the table. The current bet was five, and it was now on Roxas to see it or to fold. Without taking his eyes off his opponent, he picked up ten of his own chips and dropped them in the middle, doubling Luxord's wager. Xigbar and Demyx were at the edges of their seats, elbows on the table and watching with widened eyes as their comrades repeated the pattern back and forth until Roxas had spent his last chip.

"Well, Roxas," Luxord gloated, matching Roxas' bet and politely nodding. "Let's see what you have."

Roxas hesitated, clutching his cards tightly for a moment before finally laying them on the table for all to see. Gasps were heard all around as every eye widened at the sight of his hand. "A full house!"

"Amazing!"

"Luxord?"

The man hummed thoughtfully as he peered down at Roxas' cards with his expertly blank expression. After a tense beat of silence, he set his cards aside and extended a hand toward his foe. "I will yield."

Enthusiastic clapping and cheering immediately followed Luxord's surrender. "Roxas, you won!"

"Wait, wh-what?"

"I concede defeat," Luxord bowed his head. "You've bested me tonight, Roxas. You take the pot."

Roxas returned his handshake, still struggling to understand what had just happened. "B-But… we haven't seen your cards. How do we know…?"

"It doesn't matter, buddy. He let you have it!"

"Congrats, kiddo!"

Luxord never did show his losing hand, and Roxas accepted that he might never understand why, but a few seconds of high praise from the other players was enough to wipe that mystery from his mind. Either he'd won fair and square, or Luxord cared enough about his enjoyment to let him win, and either outcome was heartwarming enough for Roxas.

The applause settled down and Xigbar let out an exaggerated yawn. "Bed time for me…"

Luxord was quick to join him, clearing up his cards as they rose from their seats. He sent a smile back over his shoulder as he followed Xigbar to the exit. "I'll see you in the morning, Demyx. Farewell, Roxas."

Demyx and Roxas nodded in return. "Goodnight."

Together, the men swayed with every step on their way out, fingers linked and with their heads leaning on one another. They took their sweet time in leaving, but once they were gone, Demyx hopped up to his feet and offered Roxas assistance in standing on his own. "Well, Roxas, can I walk you back?"

"Sure," he said, graciously accepting the hand up from the sofa. "Thanks."

They didn't talk along the journey back to Roxas' room. It was late, and they were both tired, but Roxas could still sense some restlessness in Demyx, the anxiety that he struggled to bottle up. It did seem odd to send Zexion on the search and leave Roxas alone with the Superior, and he could admit without shame that the idea made him just as nervous, but he knew that it was different for the musician. In Demyx, Roxas sensed a deep concern for the young scientist's safety and wellbeing, originating from a place of deep attachment. A powerful instinct to protect him at all costs. A strong conviction that, of the pair, one simply could not carry on without the other. Roxas was reminded of his friendship with Axel, Axel's battered connection to Saïx, the aged companionship between Xigbar and Luxord, the newly blossoming affection between Demyx and Zexion — the "relationships" of which Xemnas spoke. To Roxas, those connections carried all the same weight as the bond between the trio in the mirror. Just taking a moment to dwell on the pure humanity of it all was enough to overwhelm him, and before he knew it, Roxas was steadying himself against the wall as another pain struck him in his core.

"Whoa," Demyx crouched down, ready to catch him if he fell. "What is it, buddy? You okay?"

"It really is happening to all of you…" Roxas breathed, unable to truly articulate his thoughts as the spasm climbed toward its apex. "It's… It's beautiful."

"Huh?"

The pain was fading, and Roxas explained between labored breaths. "Xemnas came to visit me… He said that everyone can feel again, even him. I didn't want to believe it, but…" he drew in a shaky inhale. "Xemnas is really, _really _sad."

"Sad?" Demyx cocked his head. "What's he got to be sad about?"

"I don't know. But it must be pretty bad to hurt him like that."

In Xemnas, Roxas had sensed an overwhelming sense of loss, a grief even more painful than that of Saïx or Axel. He didn't have to question just who the man had been mourning — there was clearly a reason that those strangers in the mirror only ever appeared as incorporeal spirits in his reflection. Every one of them must have been gone, and even though there was no sign of Xemnas in those memories, he must have been close to them, and had been weathering the ache of their absence alone for all these years.

Demyx seemed lost for words and didn't say anything after that. They resumed their trek, albeit more slowly than before. Sensing that he was still troubled, Roxas thought back on some advice he'd received just the other night. Words he needed to hear, spoken from another troubled man who clearly needed to hear them just as much.

"Hey, Demyx?"

"Yeah?"

"Hold on, okay?" he clasped his sleeve, locking eyes with him just as fervently as Saïx had before. "You know… for Zexion."

Demyx paused. "H-Huh?"

"If we want to make it, we gotta fight… and we all have someone worth fighting for. If Zexion's your someone, then you gotta fight hard for him."

Demyx looked sincerely lost at first, but Roxas watched as the realization slowly came over him, his expression warming as it shifted from confusion to understanding. "I will, Roxas," his voice was breathy and low, and wobbled a bit when he spoke. "Thanks a lot… for reminding me."

They bid their farewells once they'd made it safely back to his room. Roxas hadn't realized just how exhausted he was until he laid eyes on the fresh linens on his bed, newly made up and ready to be slept in. He glanced around his room, finding it as immaculate as ever — no doubt at the command of the higher ups, wishing to keep him healthy by sending Dusks nearly every hour just to clean the place before he ever had a chance to dirty it up. He passed by his desk to find that the bowl of soup was gone, and the journal was neatly put away in its drawer. The mirror still glistened brightly, enticing him to take a peek at his reflection when he approached the closet to undress. There were no strangers standing beside him now. He only saw himself behind the glass, just as it should be. For one evening, he'd gotten a taste of normalcy. He had the chance to just exist as his comrades did — enjoying himself for his own sake, spending time with his found family, and setting aside his cares for just an hour or two. One evening was all he could have, and one was all that he needed. After tonight, he could walk back into perpetual stillness, satisfied, newly refreshed, and feeling far less alone.

_We all have someone worth fighting for… _Roxas pondered his own words while waiting for sleep to take him. Had anyone asked him who his someone was, he'd have said Axel without a second thought. He had to share that vow with Saïx, and as far as Roxas was concerned, that only made the promise stronger. He wondered if Xemnas had any such purpose — a someone to fight for.

As he lay beneath the covers, the entity inside him began wriggling slightly, like a cat turning in circles before settling in to sleep. Roxas gingerly laid his hands over his belly, just listening for the moment. He was too tired to be annoyed or angry with the creature just then, instead patiently waiting for it to be still.

"Listen, uh… if you're Ventus…" he whispered with some uncertainty. "I'll protect you, okay? If you're his someone… I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

The rumbling and rolling did not cease, and Roxas wondered for a moment if the creature could hear him. "Just… I don't want to die," he pleaded quietly. "Whatever you end up doing… please, let me live. I… If someone is fighting for me, I don't want to let them down."

The creature was still again, and before Roxas could finish his request, he drifted off to the most restful sleep he'd had in months. In his dreams, he finally made it back to the clock tower, ice cream in hand and best friend at his side. He saw those strangers, lying in the grass and gazing at the sky — just like he would watch the sunset with Axel. There was no difference between those bonds. Friendship, family… they felt the same to him. The heart did not discriminate. Roxas understood perfectly. That closeness among his comrades was the blissful sensation of their hearts linked together by what Roxas believed was called 'love.'

Yes, that explained it all. That was the truth. It didn't have to make sense. It was just a dream.

* * *

Thanks again for reading another chapter of mine! This story is about to get *real* so fasten your seatbelts and stay tuned for the next section! We're coming up to the parts that I wrote first, before ever writing anything else. It's been a year and a half that I've waited to post them, so I hope you're as excited as I am!

As always, you can find me on twitter where I'm currently screaming about Ignis from FFXV. I also sometimes post sneak previews of my writing, fan art that I've done, and even Data Greetings! I'm on tumblr, too, under the same name, making just as much noise there.

Here's my Discord server link! /ffy5E8G

Peace and Love,

Ostelan


	33. Dissent

Dawn was still over an hour away when Roxas began to notice the pattern.

_4:14 — Sleeping._ The pain jostled him from his slumber, and he quickly chalked it up to the nightmare he'd been having. He kept seeing the face of that boy with the helmet, eyes wide with fear and confusion. But, Roxas told himself, it was just a dream. He rolled over and closed his eyes, trying to forget those images and let himself drift away again.

_4:49 — Sleeping._ He shot up in bed, half expecting to see Xemnas still there with his fingertips dug sharply into his abdomen, as if to claw the creature right out of him. Roxas blew a sigh of relief when he found his bedroom empty, glad for once to be alone. Another dream. He figured he'd gone to bed too late and upset his internal rhythm a bit, and perhaps he should have expected a restless night.

_5:18 — Sleeping._ The nightmares grew more disturbing every time his head fell back to the pillow. The horrendous sight of the mysterious entity tearing its way out of him, the torturous sensation of Zexion's cold scalpel carving his flesh, the sound of himself choking on his own blood, desperate to scream yet unable to make a sound. It was too real to just be a dream. Roxas was jolted awake once more, panting, his forehead damp with sweat, and convinced that he could still feel the pain.

He quickly gave up on sleeping, lest the nightmares drain away the last of his sanity. His journal lay still open on his nightstand, his pencil having rolled onto the floor. He skimmed through the list of times he'd recorded, and some simple math put a knot of anxiety in his chest. Pains were striking him twice an hour, and had been since four in the morning. Even as he roamed about his room to dress himself and prepare for the day, they came according to that schedule, each one clenching a little tighter than the last. _5:50 — Brushing teeth, 6:20 — Taking shower… _The spasms continued without any triggers. No emotions, no nightmares, no outward signs of distress. Roxas was barely able to swallow down his nerves in time to answer the knock at his door and greet Zexion, who had unexpectedly come to visit him just after seven.

"Good morning, Roxas," he smiled politely as the door closed behind him.

Roxas frowned slightly. "You didn't have to come all the way up here."

Zexion shifted in place, dropping his eyes as he excused himself. "It was… along my path. Sorry for the surprise. How are you feeling today?"

Roxas' glare did not waver in the least. "I feel like shit, thanks for asking."

Although he was obviously uncomfortable, Zexion was not about to be intimidated out of doing his job, and as he set his tools and instruments on the desk in quiet resolution, Roxas felt a little guilty for giving him a hard time. He softened his demeanor, complying with the scientist's demands as he approached the bed.

"I'll make the examination quick and let you rest," Zexion said, warming up his hands as Roxas lay on his back, awaiting his daily dose of poking and prodding.

"Is Axel already gone?" he asked, wondering if maybe he could pay his friend the visit he didn't get to have last night.

Zexion jotted some notes on his clipboard in between segments of the exam. "Yes, he and Xigbar left well before dawn."

It was disappointing news for Roxas to hear that he'd missed Axel yet again. It felt like ages since he'd last seen the man. He couldn't even bother to say goodbye before going on his mission? Roxas wondered if maybe his friend was avoiding him — a thought that he quickly wished he hadn't entertained.

Zexion was at least honest about making the examination a quick one, hurrying through each step and hastily scribbling his measurements in between. He was nearly finished, packing up his materials and glancing through the log in Roxas' journal when he gasped softly. He turned his full attention on the record Roxas had written, his expression becoming increasingly troubled the further he read. Despite this, he kept the tone of his voice relatively even, asking his questions very clinically and without any outward emotion behind his words. "Tell me about the pains, Roxas."

The concern Zexion had failed to conceal was enough to set Roxas' nerves alight once more. He gulped, now trying just as diligently to hide his own anxiety as the scientist was trying to hide his. "It's all right there in the journal."

"Yes, I see," Zexion observed warily. "Seems the thing doesn't want to let you sleep. Were you dreaming, perhaps?"

Roxas hesitated for a long beat, avoiding the man's eyes as he muttered his answer. "I don't remember."

It seemed as though Zexion was stalling, waiting for that next spasm to strike. Indeed, the clock was ticking, and the pain was due to return any moment. Roxas bit his lip, preparing for his cover to be blown when it did, but as the seconds dragged on in awkward silence, it seemed that even Zexion could no longer justify his presence. The examination was over, and there was nothing left to discuss. "Okay," he said, defeated. "You're doing wonderfully with the tracking. Keep it up, Roxas."

He was infuriatingly slow to leave, but eventually the door did close behind him, and at last, Zexion was gone. The pain was right on cue, as if the creature was waiting for the scientist to vacate the premises before continuing its assault. Roxas' belly constricted violently enough that he thought he might be sick, and he staggered off the bed and into the bathroom where his stomach made good on its threats. He vomited several times over the next few minutes, although with nothing to show for it. He'd not had a meal in twelve hours, but the retching did not stop until its point was made. Clearly, the monster inside him was upset. Somehow, Roxas had managed to offend the creature and now he was being punished for it. It was the most logical conclusion he could draw just then.

Exhausted, but unwilling to sleep, Roxas obediently rested in bed as he was ordered to do in the hopes of settling the agitated state of both the entity and himself. He tossed and turned as usual, struggling to achieve anything resembling restfulness. The pain gripped him several more times over the next two hours, and he soon began to feel a sense of foreboding. As each one hit harder and with greater intensity, they also happened more often. Three of them per hour. Then four. He dutifully recorded each one in his journal — _9:31… 9:45… 9:56… _The gaps between them were shrinking, and Roxas couldn't help but question what would happen when the spaces were closed up. Would it just be constant? What did it mean?

By late morning, Roxas could no longer find a comfortable position in which to lie on his bed, and he wondered if maybe a warm shower would help. He figured if it could do nothing for the pain, it might at least help him to relax. He climbed out of bed and hobbled toward the closet to undress, tensely anticipating when the next pain would hit. He took only a brief glance at his reflection, prepared to cringe at his haggard appearance again when he saw it. A bright, crimson stain on his white sheets. He blinked, praying the mirror was just playing tricks on him again, but when he whipped around to see for himself, the image was confirmed. There, on his bed where he'd just been sitting, was a sizable pool of his own blood.

He dashed into the bathroom and stripped completely, intending to search for a wound. His skin transcended a new shade of pale when he saw the streaks of blood running down his legs. His investigation was short, given the limitations his size placed on him, but he knew he would not like the answer when he found it. He hadn't been cut, he wasn't stabbed, and he quite immediately decided that he didn't want to know where it was all coming from.

He stood frozen in his shower stall, watching the droplets hit the tile and racking his brain for a solution. He couldn't tell Zexion — who could predict what he might do to him? He couldn't tell Saïx — he'd surely alert Xemnas and then Roxas would be in real trouble. Part of him wanted to just go back to bed and pretend it wasn't happening. But the pains were still coming, the blood continued to flow, and rational thought rapidly drained from his head as his mind was clouded by panic.

_Axel. _Roxas decided he'd try to find Axel. He'd go down to the grey area and ask Saïx if Axel had returned from his mission. It was nearly time for his shift to be over, and perhaps he'd be back early. Using the precious few minutes he had between pains, Roxas collected his bearings and threw on some fresh clothes before heading out the door.

The pains stopped him in his tracks several times as he hurried down the halls as fast as his heavy body could carry him. He was about to round the last corner when he heard the voice of Xemnas, having a quiet discussion with Saïx.

"What a shame," Xemnas whispered. "That it has come to this."

"Sir?"

"Something truly extraordinary has happened inside the boy. Something even I could never have predicted," he explained cryptically. "Roxas has a heart of his own. I am almost certain of it. And, I believe that it has interfered with the experiment."

He sighed before continuing softly. "In a way, things are playing out exactly as they were designed. Roxas was never meant to survive. I just didn't think it would take this long."

Roxas felt his throat clenching as he listened. It took nearly all of his self control not to march around the corner and demand further elaboration from the Superior. This passing conversation he overheard, the bits and pieces of this twisted plan that he caught by mere chance, was not enough. There was more to the story, and Roxas needed — no, he _deserved _to know the rest.

"Inform Zexion that he is to remove that creature from Roxas by the day's end," Xemnas went on, clarifying nothing of his previous statements. "This clash has reached a stalemate, and the time has come for us to end it once and for all."

"You do realize that that thing will fight tooth and nail for its survival, even going so far as to kill Roxas in the process?"

"I am very well aware," Xemnas replied rather sharply. "We will be putting the boy out of his misery."

Even Saïx's responses were increasingly apprehensive. "Understood, sir. I will have Zexion begin the preparations immediately."

"Saïx…"

The way he called to his subordinate just then was in a cadence so subdued that Roxas might have believed that the man felt regretful of his orders. He could hear the hesitation and uncertainty when the Superior spoke, just like he had the previous night when he came to visit.

"I am not without compassion," he continued, regaining a bit of his authority as he did. "I want Roxas heavily and _discreetly_ sedated."

"I see," Saïx's voice elevated in curiosity. "You do not want him informed."

"There is no need to upset him."

"And what of Vexen?"

There was some time before Xemnas finally answered. "If he is not found by sundown," he took a long, ragged breath. "We will call off the search."

There was a solemn tone to Saïx's acknowledgement. "Yes, sir."

Roxas couldn't believe what he'd just heard. They were going to kill him. All this time, it was planned that he would be sacrificed. He wasn't just supposed to find Ventus and host him, he was going to _become _Ventus. This months-long transformation of his body, the pain and the illness, and now these final stages — it all must have been part of the process. He was slowly deteriorating as the creature inside him — whoever _Ventus _was — ate away at everything that made up Roxas. Vexen and Zexion proposed the project, Xemnas approved it, and everyone else in the Organization stood by to watch the carnage from the comfort and safety of their thrones.

Roxas had no time to be afraid for his life. He was just trying to decide his next move when the pain returned. He doubled over, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle a choked cry as the driving pressure pummeled him into submission. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple while he rode it out, praying Xemnas and Saïx couldn't hear him. Every second, he listened for their footsteps approaching, straining his ears through the persistent ringing and bracing himself to run. Thankfully, they never seemed to take notice of his presence. Their conversation trailed off in the distance as they made their way down the hall in the opposite direction, just in time for the spasm to begin gradually subsiding.

He was running out of time. The pains continued to strike at frighteningly regular intervals, stronger and meaner each time. He could feel the warmth of blood steadily pouring out of him. He had to get out. No matter where he went, he couldn't stay at the castle, couldn't stay with the Organization any longer. There wasn't a soul he could trust, no one to turn to for help now, and in that deeply vulnerable moment, backed into a corner with his very life hanging in the balance, Roxas began to feel very alone — more so than he ever had.

Fear chased him for every step as he ran back up the stairs. He hadn't a clue where he could go now. His options were limited, the risks were astronomical, and the outcome of the experiment remained a glaring unknown. It was entirely possible that he was already too late. But, with his mind set, determined to flee, he rushed to his room to collect his belongings, knowing that the moment he left this castle, he wouldn't be coming back.

* * *

Everyone Axel had spoken to about the new world had described the place as beautiful. They used such colorful terminology as _dazzling, lush,_ and _a wonder to behold,_ that he was prepared to walk into a fairy tale the moment he'd set foot outside the dark corridor. But after nearly six hours of sitting with Xigbar — hunched over in a thicket of bushes where they'd been all morning, watching the inhabitants patrol the entrance to their camp — Axel quickly discovered that as lovely as this particular world could be, nature simply didn't impress him. The scenery quickly became a tiresome sight, with everything being the same drab shade of green. The animals were a near-constant guessing game of adorable or terrifying, making it impossible to determine which ones could kill a man with just a scratch and which ones just wanted to nuzzle his ankle with their noses. And, despite the thick leather of their coats, their boots, their gloves, and even the added protection of their hoods, a number of insects found their way to their skin, biting them stealthily and leaving itchy welts in their path. Axel already hated the new world, and his first shift wasn't even over yet.

Back and forth, the two monitored the native men until they had the pattern memorized. Security at this particular base was rock solid — not a single opening where the main gate was left unattended. Additionally, there were several others posted atop the high walls lining the perimeter, ready to fire at anything that crossed their line of sight with their antiquated muskets. Axel couldn't see how they'd ever get inside, and it was only a few hours until noon, when the supposed trial and subsequent execution was to take place.

Xigbar released an impatient sigh. "I could take every one of those bastards out right now."

"Well, don't," Axel hissed. "They might hurt Vexen if you do."

"I'm tellin' ya, if we just storm the camp and start mowin' 'em down—"

"That's not the plan," Axel exasperated for what felt like the twentieth time. "There's too many of them, and they'd kill all of us _and_ Vexen before we ever found where they're keeping him."

Saïx had designed their plan of attack with utmost care, having considered almost every possible outcome when drafting their script. Around the clock, teams were recording the layout of the base camp, monitoring the guard rounds, counting heads, and drawing tracks, ensuring they could traverse the place in their sleep if they had to. For everyone's safety, and to avoid contamination, stealth was to be the main method of operation. They were to sneak in, find Vexen, sneak out to a designated location a safe distance away, then leave through a dark corridor. And yet, for all the days and nights they'd spent watching the inhabitants' movements, they still couldn't find where Vexen was being imprisoned, and hadn't any idea how they were going to get inside the camp undetected.

Axel and Xigbar continued watching the guards make their rounds, scanning for even the slightest break in their defenses, only to come up short with each rotation. Xigbar, after a while, was clearly not paying attention to their work and was instead studying Axel with his eyebrow raised suspiciously.

"Hey," he muttered, masking any indicators of emotion in his tone. "You worried?"

Axel rolled his eyes. "What kind of question is that?"

"A serious one."

Now it was Axel who lifted an eyebrow, but he did not answer Xigbar's question, instead turning his attention back on the roaming guards they were supposed to be watching. Xigbar, unwilling to let the issue drop, reached out and gripped his shoulder, speaking with a very different voice than he'd just been using.

"We'll find him," he promised. "And he's gonna take good care of Roxas."

It was the man's sudden softness which drew Axel's eyes away from the mission. Xigbar was smiling quite warmly, almost tempting him to smile back in appreciation of the unexpected gesture of support. Even with only one eye, Xibar could see right through him — could see right through anyone, in fact. The man had a talent for reading people, cracking them open like books and absorbing every detail of their thoughts until he could extract a weakness to exploit. But, he wasn't exploiting anything now. Axel could simply _tell_ that his concern was genuine — an instinct in which he'd never placed so much trust until today.

He was just thinking of something to say, struggling to find the right words that would explain the multitude of chaos in his head when something caught his eye just over Xigbar's shoulder. "Shit, who's that?"

Xigbar turned, following Axel's line of sight until he saw them, too. There was another group of people, dressed in very different attire and carrying more traditional-looking weapons, closing in from a hundred feet away. When they'd reached a small clearing, still a fair distance away, they scattered and took their positions, crouched behind trees and shrubs with their eyes fixed on the high walls of the base camp.

"Looks like a recon team… from the other faction," Xigbar crawled a few paces toward the group, his voice rising with intrigue. "Ooh, I wonder what they're up to? An ambush, mayhaps?"

"Shh, get down!" Axel whispered harshly as the man crept further away from his post. "Xigbar!"

Xigbar paid him no heed, and Axel was forced to follow after him in a huff. He thought of how he'd explain the insubordination to Saïx, and how the especially testy man would respond to their reports. There wasn't time for distraction on a mission like this, and Axel was already preparing for the scolding they'd receive when he heard howling and sounds of a commotion. He popped up his head from the brush and saw some sort of giant beast engaging in combat with the group of warriors.  
Startled, Xigbar fell backwards with a gasp. "What the hell is that thing?!"

It was quite possibly the ugliest creature Axel had ever laid eyes on. The monster had the appearance of a massive, carnivorous plant. Its main component was a large central pod with a wide, weeping mouth lined with red, thorny teeth. It walked on the barbed, segmented legs of an insect, and it attacked with a mess of vines that seemed powerful enough to squeeze the life out of an adult human.

"A Heartless?"

"It doesn't look like any Heartless I've ever seen."

Axel squinted, trying to get a better look at the beast's body. He couldn't find a Heartless emblem anywhere, but this thing was clearly no ordinary wildlife. The small group of people fought diligently with their bows and spears, but were sorely mismatched for such a foe. Axel and Xigbar watched in horror as the monster wrapped a vine around one of the unfortunate warriors, lifting him effortlessly off the ground and dropping him into its enormous mouth, swallowing him whole. Axel and Xigbar winced, turning their heads in pity and disgust, but it was just as hard to listen to the natives screaming as the monster stamped out life after life with ease.

"It's going to kill all those people," Axel said shakily. "We've got to destroy it!"

"And blow our cover?!"

Axel paused at Xigbar's point. With their target just behind them and seemingly unaware of the battle taking place just outside their walls, he wondered if it might be the better choice to turn tail and run. If they were spotted by the men with the muskets and recognized by their coats, Vexen's situation could take a turn for the worse. But there was little time for soul-searching. The sound of another warrior being eaten was what set his mind, and he turned to Xigbar with greater urgency. "If we don't, it could get to the camp where Vexen's being held!"

Xigbar took only another moment, cringing as he watched the creature consume yet another innocent person. He gulped audibly and agreed with a reluctant nod. "Alright, let's do this."

The two quickly abandoned their mission and joined the fray, rushing at the beast with their weapons brandished for action. It was clear that their presence had surprised the native fighters, who stared at them in confusion as they approached. But, to Axel's relief, their response was not hostile, and they seemed not to be afraid of him or his comrade. Their focus remained on the leafy monster, towering over them all on its stalks and appearing to grin menacingly at the prospect of fresh meat.

Whittling the monster down was a slow and calculating process, and this particular creature did not play nice. It whipped its massive vines around, striking with the force of a heavy club, strong enough to break bones. Axel and Xigbar dodged every swipe with flying leaps, bouncing all over the arena and aiming to avoid being the next victims dropped into its toothy, gaping maw. While the freeshooter searched for a weak spot to target, Axel shot fire magic spells anywhere he could land them, much to the delight of the inhabitants who stood back and watched him in awe. His chakrams spun like sawblades, cutting swiftly through vines and stems before hurtling back to his hands. As well as it was going, their enemy was determined. Having no interest in playing with its food, it abandoned its fight with Axel and Xigbar and turned back on the natives, whose bows and spears had no effect on the hungry predator. Axel tossed a chakram to intercept the beast, but his attack missed. In retaliation, he was quickly struck by a vine and thrown several feet away, skidding to a halt on the rough dirt. The impact knocked the wind out of him and he lay there in a daze, barely clinging to consciousness as he listened to the warped sounds of frightened warriors bellowing at their ruthless foe in futility. The lingering ache in his ribs and shoulder were now screaming at him in protest, and his vision was blurring slightly as the canopy overhead spun and swayed, but after a few seconds he staggered back to his feet, determined to finish this battle once and for all. He was blinking the stars from his watering eyes and shaking the dizziness out of his head when a blood-curdling scream made his stomach drop.

"Axel!" Xigbar cried out in terror. "Don't just stand there! Help me!"

His comrade was being dragged along the grass by the leg, captured by one of the creature's vines. The sinister, dripping mouth was opening once more, preparing for its next meal. Axel broke into a sprint, dashing toward the beast with a piercing roar. He closed in and grabbed Xigbar by the arms, yanking him as hard as he could, but the vine would not let go. With little time and not much forethought, Axel jumped right to his last resort and allowed the embers of rage to burn up inside him, focusing that energy until he could wield it like a weapon and blast this monster into oblivion where it belonged.

"You asked for it!" he taunted the enemy as he activated his limit break. In a powerful explosion of fire and smoke, he leapt into the air and unleashed a flurry of strong, high-speed attacks. Flames swirled around him as he hacked away at his opponent until it collapsed to the ground, stunned. Xigbar took the opportunity to crawl away, directing the other people to stand clear while Axel built up the biggest fire spell he could cast, his chakrams spinning in his hands faster than could be seen by human eyes. When the final limit was ready, he hurled his weapons with all of his strength, scorching the monster with a devastating explosion as he cut through its middle and left it in pieces, dead at last.

He'd half-expected to hear cheering when the battle was over, but all that followed Axel's finishing blow was an eerie silence. He fell to his knees in exhaustion, panting heavily as he scanned the field for his comrade. Xigbar was a few feet away, flat on his back and just as breathless.

"You okay?" he called to him.

"I'm definitely gonna feel that in the morning," Xigbar grunted. "I'm getting too old for this…"

Axel slowly climbed back to his feet, searching all around them for any sign of the native warriors they'd fought with, but they were nowhere to be found. Assuming they'd all fled when they had the chance, and equally wary at the possibility of a second monster spawning in place of the fallen first, Axel hurried over to pull Xigbar off the ground.

"Guess they didn't want to stick around for the after party," Xigbar observed, wincing as Axel brushed the dirt and twigs off his coat. He was hurt, but thankfully his injury wasn't serious.

"And we shouldn't either," Axel replied, noting that not only was their shift over, but they were in fact a little late. "Come on, old man, let's go."

He ducked under Xigbar's arm and hoisted, supporting his weight as they limped into the dark corridor to return to the castle. His own ribs and shoulder were practically on fire and he knew he'd overdone it. But he gritted his teeth and stayed silent, knowing that Saïx would take notice of any discomfort he showed and immediately remove him from the search rotation.

The arrhythmic tapping of their unsteady stride was met by only the haunting silence of the empty Grey Area. Axel had grown so accustomed to seeing activity in that room — the music from Demyx's sitar, the turning of pages in Zexion's book, the shuffle of Luxord's cards. He'd often look forward to the opportunity to wind down with his brothers at the end of a long work day. Now, all that greeted him were bare walls, vacant furniture, and an unsettling sense of stillness. It made Axel uneasy to be in there.

The sudden loneliness was short-lived, however, as Saïx briskly entered the room to meet them. "Axel, Xigbar. You've returned," as predicted, his eyes immediately fell to Xigbar's hunched-over form. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Xigbar grinned at him and shook his head. "Only my pride," he chuckled, winking at them both. "I'm gonna lie down. Later, boys."

He staggered down the hallway toward the staircase, leaving Axel and Saïx alone in yet another uncomfortable silence, avoiding each other's eyes. It was clear that they shared the same thoughts, neither one having to speak a word as they remembered the events of the previous night. The harrowing revelation of Saïx's condition. The gut wrenching sight of him crumbling to his knees in despair, crying for the first time in over a decade. The images were forever burned into Axel's memory. More than any of it, what stunned him was the poignant truth that of all things Saïx had to cry over, it was Axel who had been the catalyst. Those tears were spilled only for him, as if the man had been saving them for just such an occasion. If it were possible, Axel might have found the sentiment moving, knowing that his old friend, his former lover, still cared for him that deeply.

He was the first to make his way out of the Grey Area, taking slow steps in an effort to hide his uneven gait. Saïx followed hesitantly, seeming to want to speak but still struggling with the words. He found his voice after a few moments, softer and less secure than before. Axel filled with warmth as he recognized the sound right away. His human voice.

"Are you alright?"

Not a word about the mission. Nothing about Xigbar or Vexen or the new world at all. Once again his thoughts, his concern, was reserved for Axel and only Axel, who this time smiled at the gesture. "I'm just fine," he answered, bending to peer into the man's downcast eyes. "How is Roxas?"

Saïx whipped his head up with a quick flash on his face. An emotion that Axel hadn't expected to see. "I haven't seen him today."

"I saw that look," Axel frowned. "What is it, Isa?"

Saïx turned away, only for Axel to take his chin and nudge him back. After several seconds trapped in the heat of Axel's glare, Saïx relented. "He's not well, Lea. That thing is hurting him," he whispered. "Please, understand that our options are limited—"

"What happened to him?" Axel repeated more firmly, his fingers never falling from Saïx's chin. The man cringed, averting his gaze as he was forced to continue his explanation.

"Xemnas… wants to extract the entity from Roxas before nightfall. Whether we get Vexen back or not."

"But that'll kill him!"

"Yes, it might," Saïx carefully wriggled out of Axels' grasp. "But so will leaving it in there. Lea… I tried. I bought us as much time as I could afford. At this point, Roxas might be better off…"

He didn't finish his sentence, and Axel was grateful for that. He paced the floor, thinking. Indeed, for all these months, they had the luxury of time, allowing them to stall until they could solve this impossible puzzle, but now that time had run out. He scratched the back of his neck, racking his brain for answers and coming up pitifully short. Maybe Saïx was right. Maybe Roxas would survive the procedure. Maybe removing it would be the better choice. And, Axel thought, maybe he could cling to some hope from that.

"Lea, are you bleeding? Lift your coat."

"What? I'm not—"

Axel cut off the moment he saw it. Saïx had been examining a spot on the floor. There were bright red droplets glistening against the white tiles in tiny puddles collected just beside the wall. They were small enough to be missed by anyone not looking for them, but numerous enough to be more serious than a harmless nosebleed. Upon close inspection, Axel could see that they were fresh.

"Isa, that isn't my blood."

The two shared a look, saying nothing but silent prayers as they raced through the halls and up the stairs at full sprint. Axel led the way despite his limp, and in no time they had reached the door to Roxas' room. "Roxas! Are you in there?" he called out for his friend, knocking gently to conceal his anxiety. "It's me. Can I come in?"

There was no response. He knocked a few more times, hearing only silence in return. Saïx stepped away from the door, keeping his distance. "I'll wait outside. Go."

With a nod, Axel entered, finding Roxas' room a disheveled mess. The boy had few belongings, but what little he owned was strewn about the room haphazardly. His closet had been torn up, his drawers cleaned out, and among the chaos, there was no sign of him anywhere. Axel was about to turn around and look for him elsewhere when he spotted something that made his stomach drop. The sheets on Roxas' bed were stained with blood, instantly confirming his suspicions about who had been bleeding in the corridor.

The bathroom door opened and Roxas stumbled out, panting and looking pale. He jumped when he saw Axel standing there. "Axel!" he exclaimed, backing away. "What are you doing here?"

"Roxas, are you alright? What's wrong?"

Roxas shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow. "N-Nothing. I'm fine."

He rushed past his friend, avoiding eye contact with him as he headed in the direction of the closet. He retrieved a small backpack and started making his way toward his desk. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, his knees appearing to weaken, and leaned against the wall with a pained look on his face.

"Roxas!" Axel bolted to his side. Roxas had doubled over, dropping the backpack and clutching his stomach. He couldn't speak but for panicked whimpers, and for the moment Axel was just as speechless. He took the boy's arm and tried to lead him to the bed, but Roxas refused to move from his position, instead just keeping his head down and huffing rapidly. After several seconds, his body relaxed. The whole ordeal, from beginning to end, was one of the most frightening things Axel had seen in a long time.

"Roxas… talk to me. Tell me what happened."

Roxas took a moment to catch his breath before dismissing Axel's requests. "I have to go."

He picked up the backpack and began filling it with belongings he pulled out of a drawer in his desk. His journal, a series of colorful sea shells, ice cream sticks and other small trinkets he had collected throughout his time spent with the Organization. Axel stared at him in disbelief. "What do you mean? Go where?"

"I don't know. I just have to get out of here."

"Why?"

Roxas didn't answer. When he had emptied the drawer of his desk, he crossed by the bed on his way to the door. The same pain seemed to strike him once more, and he grunted loudly as he doubled over again, grabbing the bed for balance and sinking to his knees. Axel rushed over and knelt beside him, searching desperately for a cause for his pain. He couldn't immediately detect any wounds that would explain the blood, and was wary of asking the boy where it was coming from. Roxas covered his grimacing face as he leaned over the side of the mattress, his fingers tightly gripping the bloody sheet as he began wheezing again.

Axel struggled to catch his own breath. "Roxas…" he whispered as calmly as he could manage. "It's hurting you. Let me take you to Zexion so he can—"

"No!" Roxas interrupted with a shout. "He's done enough. I'm leaving!"

"Roxas, if you leave now, it could—"

"I'll manage!"

Roxas slowly rose to his feet again and tossed the last few items he'd collected into his backpack. Axel watched in shock as he zipped the pouches and slung it over his shoulder, apparently intending to just walk out without another word. It was crazy. It was stupid. Roxas was a fool if he thought he could just take off at a time like this. Axel couldn't even begin to imagine what he was planning to do.

"You don't mean…"

Roxas did not turn back. "Please, don't follow me."

"You could die, Roxas!"

Roxas sped toward the door, but Axel cut him off, blocking his only exit, trying any tactic to convince him to stay. To his surprise, Roxas summoned his keyblade, ready to fight his way out of the castle if he had to. Axel gaped at him, taken aback by the lengths to which his best friend was willing to go just to get away. But he stood his ground. He'd lost Roxas once, and he wasn't about to let it happen again. Unwilling to battle with the boy in such a condition, he refused to equip his chakrams in response. He met his friend's determined glare with one of his own and held up his hands, ready to take the blows unarmed.

Just then, Roxas yelped with pain, dropping his weapon and falling to the ground where he groaned and whimpered as he clenched his fists against the floor. Axel joined him and gently laid a hand on his back. He could feel the boy's torso spasming violently, more so than he thought his small body would be capable of. It ripped him to shreds to see his young friend suffering like this and having not a clue how to help him. Roxas had already endured so much. When was it enough?

"Roxas…" Axel begged helplessly as the convulsions died down. "What can I do?"

Roxas was out of breath, face flushed and drenched with sweat. He could barely summon the strength to sit upright. His eyes, wide with pain and fear, were a sight Axel would never forget. In an instant, he remembered that day that he'd brought his friend back to the Organization. He remembered the nightmares, the images of those same frightened eyes, that chilling expression of betrayal which haunted him for so long. He gasped at a sudden painful catch in his chest — a pang of guilt if he ever saw one.

Roxas never gave him an answer, but instead raised his arm and manifested a dark corridor at the other end of the room. In his momentary distraction, Axel was unable to stop him from shooting to his feet and barreling into the portal out of sight.

"Roxas, wait!"

"Go after him, Lea. Bring him back."

Surprised, Axel turned, seeing Saïx standing in the open doorway. "Isa, what if—?"

"Go!" Saïx demanded urgently. "Now, before it closes!"

Axel froze, having only a split second to decide what he would do. He'd made a promise. He'd made several promises. He brought Roxas back because he needed him. His orders be damned, he _needed_ Roxas in his life. He fought with everything he had to bring his best friend home, traumatizing them both in the process, but in the end, he'd thought it was worth it. He thought he'd done the right thing. He couldn't allow himself to regret it. Not when Roxas meant so much to him.

Now, Roxas needed _him, _and Axel was again called to bring the boy home, no matter the cost. He was hurt, he was afraid, and this could very well be his last night alive. Axel steeled himself against the images from his past and the doubts of the future. Whatever was about to happen would be the ultimate test of their shared resolve. He wasn't sure just who or what he would bring back, but if he didn't try, he would never know.

Sharing one final nod with Saïx, Axel climbed off the floor and raced over to the corridor, leaping through just before it closed behind him.

* * *

I haven't got much to say this time around except that I am so excited that we're approaching the story climax at last. It's been a long time coming. Thanks for reading and stay tuned!

Don't forget to check out my tumblr, Ostelan Excruciasm, and follow me on twitter ostelan. Join us in the KH Discord Server, too! /ffy5E8G

Peace and Love,

Ostelan


	34. What to Expect

Warning: If you read the last chapter, you probably know what's about to happen. Thing's are getting very mpreggy here, and this chapter gets intense with a pretty dramatic depiction of labor. Fasten your seatbelts and read at your own risk.

* * *

Roxas hadn't the foggiest idea where to go from there. The pains were so bad that he couldn't think, and the sudden chase only added to the stress of the situation. But this was his one shot at escaping with his life. All he knew was to run, and run as fast as his heavy body would take him. He roamed through the darkness, knowing Axel was hot on his heels. It seemed that no matter his speed, no matter which path he took, he couldn't shake the man. Time was running out. He had to go _somewhere. _In desperation, he manifested a corridor and hoped for the best.

Materializing in Twilight Town, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but it was the only place he knew, the only world that gave him a sense of comfort and familiarity. He pulled up his hood and wandered the streets, hunched over to cover his swollen belly from any onlookers. He kept his movements steady and inconspicuous, getting himself lost in crowds to keep Axel from tailing him. Another spasm was coming. He had to hurry. At the first opportunity, he ducked into a back alley, crouching beside a dumpster to wait it out. He stuffed his fist into his mouth just in time for the crash, stifling himself as the pain racked his insides. If Axel heard him — if anyone heard him — he'd be caught. Axel would drag him back to the castle, and who could say what anyone else would do? He had to keep quiet.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Roxas jumped, quickly scooting away from whoever had spoken to him. It was a young girl with brown hair. One of the kids who ran around town, laughing and playing with her friends. He recognized her, and the two boys standing beside her with puzzled looks on their faces.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said, keeping her hands visible. "I just want to help. Are you hurt?"

Roxas was backed into a corner, watching the gaps of his escape route narrow with every step she took. "Stay back… don't come any closer…"

He'd no sooner finished his command than the pain hit him again. He cried out as his legs weakened and he caught himself against the wall, concealing his writhing abdomen from the kids who gaped at him in shock. "He doesn't look so good… maybe we should go get some help…"

"I said stay back!" Roxas shouted. "Don't bring anybody else here…!"

"It's okay, no one will hurt you. We can bring you to a doctor and—"

"Roxas?"

_Damn it. _It was Axel. He'd found him. Roxas was already scanning the area for a way out, prepared to leap to his feet the moment an opening cleared for him. He could see the outline of Axel's shadow approaching, taking slow steps toward his position. The startled kids turned at the sound of his voice and were backing off. That was his window. With the kids distracted and Axel still some distance away, Roxas rolled to the side, made it back to his feet and bolted at top speed back into the plaza, ignoring their calls as he ran.

He kept low as he crept through the crowded intersections and to the other side of town. His next obstacle was a giant brick wall — what would have been another dead end except for a hole that appeared to have been punched through the bricks. As far as Roxas knew, on the other side of those bricks were the wooded outskirts of the city. He'd been out there only once, though he couldn't remember when or why. There were rumors from the townsfolk of a mysterious, haunted mansion about a mile outside the main thoroughfare. Abandoned, empty, and secluded. Surely, Roxas thought, he could lock himself inside and be safe there. Neither the superstitious citizens of Twilight Town, nor the currently preoccupied Organization would find him. The decision was quickly made, and Roxas didn't look back as he slipped through the wall's opening and dashed into the woods.

As soon as he landed, Roxas collected his bearings, chose a direction, and took off full sprint, hoping that the cover of dense forest would finally give him an advantage over his pursuer. The mansion couldn't be far, and he kept his sights on his goal, praying that willpower alone would help him to find the place. Despite his haste, he heard footsteps behind him, indicating that he was still being followed. He took a hard left and darted between trees, hoping to throw him off. Roxas knew full well that Axel could outrun him if he wanted to, especially in his current state, yet the man continued to follow a few paces behind, just out of reach of his flowing black coat.

"Roxas! Stop! You're going to hurt yourself!" Axel called to him. "Would you just talk to me? I'm trying to help!"

Roxas would have liked to give him an answer, but was too out of breath to speak. He continued running, dodging tree after tree, knowing it was only a matter of time before his body gave out. He had lost count of the pains, lost track of the time. He ran through each wave, waiting them out and letting them pass without ever missing a step. Refusing to turn back and risk slowing himself down, he made another sudden detour in a vain attempt to confuse Axel, but he was no match for his friend's quick reflexes. Roxas was soon thankful for those very reflexes, as a much stronger spasm ripped through his core and brought him to his knees.

"Roxas!" Axel was there instantly, as if he had never fallen behind in the chase. He gently grabbed Roxas' elbows to lift him back to his feet, but Roxas couldn't move — his legs were locked, his whole body frozen in place. Where only moments ago he was racing to get away from Axel, he now clung tightly to the man, longing for some semblance of comfort as the pain rose beyond his limits. Even as it surpassed the threshold of what he could stand, Roxas could not draw enough breath to moan or cry. Winded and in terrible agony, he could only pant in silence while Axel held him steady. After a minute or so, the pain had gone, but Roxas still struggled to catch his breath.

"They told me I would be safe..." he managed to sputter between labored gasps. "They said I wouldn't get hurt..."

Far too soon, he felt more pain beginning to swell like a tidal wave inside him. In his anger, he tried to ignore the mounting pressure, but with each second it grew harder to speak. "They promised I had nothing to be afraid of… But all this time they knew…!"

Beads of sweat poured down his face, matting his wispy hair to his forehead. Axel reached up to wipe it away but Roxas pushed him back and tried to stand. "I'm done! I won't be another one of their experiments!"

Roxas wanted to run but his legs would not obey. He managed to crawl a few paces away from Axel, only to be quickly incapacitated by the pain. The sensation had become so intense that he felt every muscle in his body clench in response. It was almost completely involuntary — a primal, animal instinct that he couldn't resist. His fingers dug into the grass and he tucked his chin down, grunting loudly with the strain of the violent forces his body employed inside him. Whatever was happening, he was powerless to stop it. When he tried to fight it, it fought back. He simply had no choice.

"Roxas..." Hands were laid on his back, then pulling at his shoulders. "We have to go back. It's not safe here…"

"I'm not going back there!" Roxas shouted, waving Axel's hands away. "I'm not going to let them eliminate me!"

"Roxas, I won't let them hurt you—"

"Oh _now _you want to protect me? How long have you known? You said you'd be there for me the whole way through!" he cried, still trying to catch his breath and resist the unrelenting pressure washing over him.

Roxas was right. Those were the only words Axel could think in that moment. Roxas was absolutely right. Axel had made him a promise, and it became one of many that he'd eventually broken. Roxas needed him, and he wasn't there. He trusted him, and Axel violated that trust. All the afternoons he wasted in his room, avoiding this harsh reality under the guise of recovery. All the nights he spent in Saïx's bed, pining for a lost cause, squandering the precious little time there was left. All those days when it was simply too hard to look at the boy. Roxas was alone through all of it. It was no wonder he ran away. Axel couldn't blame him in the slightest.

"Roxas... I'm here for you now."

As guilt surged like a dagger through his chest, he mopped the sweat from Roxas' brow and swept his hair out of his eyes. Small, shaking hands gripped his arms tightly, leaning into him as the pressure spilled over the boy. Axel could only watch helplessly as Roxas squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth while his body bore down again, completely out of his control. His face contorted with the strain and his shallow wheezing was silenced. It went on for several seconds before Roxas took another rattling breath.

"Well I don't need you now… I can handle this on my own!" Roxas kept swatting at him in protest, insisting that he didn't want any help, but the pain tore through his frail body again, its intensity unmatched by any of the previous spasms he'd endured. All those months, all those conversations on the clock tower, all that time and Axel never once told him that he wasn't meant to survive the experiment. He knew that Roxas would be sacrificed and replaced by the mysterious vessel he carried inside him for so long, brutalized into submission as the entity destroyed his body. He knew that his best friend was going to die, and he never said a word. That knowledge alone hurt more than any of the spasms ever could. The betrayal fueled his anger and his anger fueled the strain. His body convulsed again and his eyes watered as he let himself be crushed by the pressure once more.

The only person to give him even an inkling of what was in store was Saïx. _Saïx, _of all people, had warned him that the end would be painful, yet Roxas could never have imagined the magnitude of it. He reached for Axel again, unable to continue masking his distress as the pressure reached its peak. His back arched and he fell into the man's arms, biting down on his sleeve to muffle his thunderous groans and cries. The pain was blinding — so intense that it took his breath away. Roxas wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

"At least tell me what's happening," Axel pleaded, apprehensively rubbing his back. "Maybe I can help—"

"I don't know what's happening! I think it's trying to kill me!"

Roxas began to panic, whimpering and frantically grasping at his coat. Gently shushing him, Axel stroked his wrist and gave his shoulder a supportive squeeze. "Alright, just take it easy. It's gonna be okay…"

"I don't know what to do! I don't know if I'm supposed to fight it or let it happen!"

"Then just breathe. Just block it all out and breathe. I'll do it with you, just watch me."

Axel demonstrated with heavily exaggerated breaths. Roxas watched his eyes and attempted to follow his lead, but every time he tried to match his rhythm, his body squeezed the air out of him. "It's crushing me, Axel, I can't breathe!"

"You gotta try, Roxas," Axel insisted. "Now, come on. If you can talk, you can breathe."

Roxas focused on the steady motion of Axel's body. The inhales were slow and deep, and the exhales were heavy and rhythmic. It took some time and most of his concentration, but Roxas was eventually able to fall into sync with him and his hyperventilating ceased at last.

"There, see? You got through it," Axel praised him. "Good job."

Axel's celebratory words, welcome as they were, proved to be premature. Just as soon as the pain was gone, it came back. The pressure throttled Roxas with mounting ferocity, leaving him no option but to submit. He bore through it with a deafening wail, his fingers clawing into Axel's arms while he waited for the spasm to run its course. When it began to wind down, he found room to speak again.

"I heard them talking…" he said weakly. "Xemnas and Saïx…"

Axel gave him a wary look. "What did you hear?"

"Xemnas said… I have a heart…" Roxas answered between breaths. "And he said that messed up the experiment…"

"What? How?"

"I don't know, but…" Roxas shook his head, trying to sharpen the picture in his mind. "This… This creature… Xemnas is afraid of it… And he was going to kill us both…"

Roxas had no doubts about the Superior's emotional state, or his intentions regarding the experiment. Not only was the man quite obviously sad about the outcome — a dismal failure if he'd ever seen one — he was most certainly frightened of the monster he might have inadvertently created. The emotions in him were faint, very much stifled, but unmistakably present and unmistakably his. The more Roxas could decipher, the more he understood the conduit through which he could sense his comrades' feelings.

"Th-That's it… It must have heard him… and it's trying to escape…" he said somewhat to himself as he fit the puzzle together in his mind. The Organization got more than they bargained for, and Xemnas wanted to call the whole thing off. The vessel — or whoever was inside it — must have been aware of his plans and was now retaliating by unwittingly giving the Superior exactly what he wanted.

The pain seized Roxas around the middle without warning and he hissed. "Oh god…!"

"Whoa, easy, Roxas—"

"I get it!" He could feel the entity moving, pressing sharply into his pelvis, and he tried to make sense of it all before the pressure became too great to talk through. "Axel… it's coming, isn't it…?" he said shakily, praying that he was wrong. "That's what this is… That's what's happening!"

Axel's stomach dropped so fast he thought he might be sick. Of course it was coming. There could be no other explanation. The bleeding, the contractions — it was plainly obvious that Roxas was about to give birth. That was the next logical step, the natural conclusion to all of this. That was the warning which Zexion had been too delicate to speak aloud. But there were several details missing from this scenario. Where would it come from? Would it be routine and by the book? Would it be complicated and messy? Was it still fated for Roxas to die? Would the creature survive?

Another cry startled him from his racing thoughts. How much time did they have? Was it coming _now? _No. It couldn't be. Not here. Not now. Axel couldn't remember the steps. He had no idea what he was doing. "It's okay. Don't fight it, Roxas, let it happen."

Roxas swallowed the pain, resisting the pressure with all of his concentration. "I have to stop it or it'll kill me…"

"Fighting it will kill you. You have to let go."

"I'm not going to just give up and die!"

"Roxas…"

Roxas pushed Axel back and crawled away, trying to get back on his feet and run. His legs kept shaking and refused to bear his weight. Every time he managed to get his feet under him, he fell to his knees again, defeated. Axel followed, catching him every time he went down. Trapped in his arms, Roxas struggled and fought to escape, thrashing and flailing as Axel further tightened his grasp.

"Roxas, stop! Look at me!" Axel cupped his cheeks, speaking sternly but with sympathy in his eyes. "I know you're scared. I don't understand what's going on, but I'm here, okay? I'm not going anywhere. We're gonna figure this out," he released the boy, settling his own nerves as he instructed Roxas to do the same. "Now, just calm down and take a deep breath."

Despite the resistance, Axel led the way, blowing softly to him until he complied. "You gotta trust me, man. I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to you. Please, let me help."

Roxas closed his eyes, listening. He could feel something in his throat. A constricting sensation that made it even harder to breathe. He dropped his head as tears fell from his face. A sob escaped his lips, then another and another until he finally broke down completely. For months he endured the discomfort of the bizarre transformation in his body, quietly taking the pain in stride. With dignity, he accepted every second that he felt sick, scared, and alone. He clung to the last shreds of his resolve, putting on a brave face from the very beginning, even knowing that the outcome of this experiment would be a mystery. He was strong and he was brave, but tonight, all the pain and fear overwhelmed him and he wept uncontrollably. He cried from the relentless agony and terror. He cried from the bitter loneliness and despair. He cried from the boiling anger and betrayal. He cried because after everything he'd been through, he didn't want to die like this. It just wasn't fair.

He didn't resist as Axel gently slid his arms around his back, pulling him to his chest. Trembling in the man's embrace, he gripped the leather coat in his fingers and buried his face beneath his chin, for once feeling safe, if only for a few moments. At least he would be with Axel when the end came. At least the last person he'd lay eyes on would be his best friend. Roxas took comfort in that, what little there was to be had.

Axel said nothing at all, giving him the time he needed. Months ago, he might have been stunned by such an outpouring of emotion, supposedly from a boy with no heart. But he knew better — Roxas had a heart. It was just as the Superior said. Roxas had a heart from the very beginning. It didn't matter how or why, it simply _was_. To feel his body quaking in his arms, to hear him sniffling against his coat stung him deeply. Axel held him close, keeping him together as he fell apart right in front of him. He didn't relax his grip even as he heard whispering beneath him.

"Axel…"

"Shh… it's alright. I'm here."

"What do I do…? I'm so scared…"

"You're going to be fine," Axel ruffled his hair. "You don't have to do anything right now. Just relax."

The two were motionless for a long while. Roxas was curled up in Axel's arms, letting himself cry until his eyes burned. Letting himself feel. Axel was warm. His grasp was strong and protective. His hands were delicate and soothing. His voice was soft and reassuring. Roxas clung to him, his only anchor, his lifeline. The pains came and went, and together they quietly breathed through each one. Finally, his tears slowed and he began to relax. He let go of Axel's coat and rested on his heels.

"Axel… thank you…" he whispered, wiping his eyes. "I'm glad you're here."

Axel smiled and offered him a hand. "Hey, what are best friends for?"

Roxas took his hand graciously, smiling in return. He was just catching his breath and drying his face when he felt another spasm beginning to build. Trying to be brave for Axel's sake, he closed his eyes while he waited for the strike. It shot through him like a bolt of lightning, forcing him to sink into it once more. Never missing a beat, Axel stepped in immediately, talking him through as gently as he could.

"Come here," he whispered as Roxas bent with the pressure. "It's okay. Just keep breathing."

For that long, gut-wrenching minute, Axel was lost for words. The years flashed before his eyes. His only friend had grown cold and distant, and the loneliness had turned him bitter and menacing. Roxas changed everything. He appeared when Axel needed him the most. The boy was so genuine, so _human_. He filled in the spaces in Axel's life and made him feel whole again, like he had a heart. Axel was unworthy of his compassion, yet Roxas showed him such patience and understanding without a second thought. They shared a bond so strong that no force in the universe could break it. Their time together was too short. This was where it would end. These were the poor child's last moments alive. Roxas was his best friend, and now Axel was going to lose him.

"Roxas, please…" he begged with tears in his eyes. "Come back with me. I don't want to lose you again…"

Roxas started at the sound of Axel's shaking voice. He could hear the lump in the man's throat. Could feel the grief and anguish tugging at his chest. He looked up into his friend's eyes and saw something he should have considered hours, weeks, maybe even months ago — Axel was scared, too. Faced with losing his best friend _and _being forced to watch him suffer all the way to the end. He was terrified, confused, and so incredibly sad, yet he buried it all away for Roxas' sake. Moved by the gesture, Roxas scolded himself for his selfishness. Axel should never have been dragged into this mess.

Just as he was preparing to surrender and allow his friend to take him back, the pressure gripped him once again and he froze. The intensity had amplified by leaps and bounds, and an unbelievably strong force wrapped around him, pulling from his sternum to his pelvis, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him into another round of agonizing clenching. The pain was unbearable. He was surely about to vomit. Axel was telling him to breathe. He closed his eyes and tried to just blow it all away, huffing and panting as he was crushed under the weight of his own body's assault. It wasn't helping. Nothing was helping.

"Just do what you gotta do, buddy," Axel took his hand and squeezed it tightly. "I'm right here."

Roxas could feel a change in his core. The pressure continued to grow stronger and stronger every second until it shifted into a persistent, forceful impulse, compelling him to act yet again. The sensation was nauseating — one he likened to someone reaching inside of him and trying to pull all of his guts out. Roxas fought against it with whatever energy he had left, sucking in every breath and blowing them out rapidly to prevent himself being overtaken by whatever his body was trying to do.

"Axel, I don't know how to do this…"

Axel had been stalling for time for almost an hour, trying to think of something, anything that would take the burden off his poor friend's shoulders. It was all so wrong, so cruel. Roxas was just a kid. How could anyone expect him to do something like this? There had to be another way, he just hadn't found it yet, and now time had run out. He had no other option but to accept the inevitable. Perhaps, he considered, getting the thing out faster would give Roxas a better chance of surviving. If he could do nothing else, Axel would be his guide, and he would do it all with him if he had to. He would let himself feel every clench. He would work just as hard and become just as tired. He wouldn't catch his breath until Roxas did first. In solidarity, he would share the load in any way he could if it meant Roxas would make it through to the end.

He swallowed hard, shifting himself into position. "It's okay, Roxas. I'm going to help you. We're gonna push this thing out together."

"Wait, what?" Roxas' eyes widened.

"You can do it," Axel clasped his shoulder, stabilizing him. "When it comes back, squeeze my hand and push with all your might."

_Push what? _"Are you nuts? I don't know how!"

"You will, buddy. You'll know. Just give it a minute and you'll feel it."

"Axel, I can't do this!"

"Roxas, listen to me," Axel locked eyes with him. "You _can_ do this. You're the strongest person I know, and you're gonna get through it. Got it memorized?"

The next spasm slammed him so hard he thought his spine would snap. The pressure amplified until he was racked with that same powerful impulse, demanding his participation, and in that moment he understood what he had to do. He wouldn't be given an option and he had no time to panic. The signal was loud and clear. He simply had to do it, and he had to do it _now._ "Okay… Okay, I feel it…"

"Alright, go for it, man."

It was really happening. The urge was intensifying and Roxas was running out of time to stall. He took a breath. Then another. He thought of all the things he wanted to say to Axel, but hadn't gotten the chance to. He wanted to tell him that their friendship was the only reason he could go on. He wanted to tell him that he was glad to be rescued after he ran away and was kidnapped. He wanted to apologize. For hurting him. For attacking him. For scaring him. He wanted to apologize for dying and leaving him behind. For breaking his heart. This was it. This was his last chance.

Tears fell down his cheeks again as he whispered what he feared might be his final words. "Axel… I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize, just do your thing."

"I'm sorry about the other day. I'm sorry I turned my keyblade on you. I'm sorry I ran away. I'm sorry I scared you..."

Axel scoffed with a confident smile. "Come on, silly, you know us Nobodies can't feel scared. Now, focus. You need to push."

Indeed, he did. Clamping down tightly on Axel's hand, Roxas took another breath and bore down hard. It was awful. He couldn't breathe — there was no time to breathe. His head was aching, pounding in his temples and behind his eyes. He cried into Axel's shoulder the whole time. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, and he hated every bone-crushing second of it. He could only hope he was doing it right and that it was working — if only it meant that he'd be done soon.

"That's good… That's good, Roxas. Keep going."

Axel sat frozen, just staring at the horrific scene playing out in front of him. After everything the poor boy had been through — the months of pain and fear, the confusion, the loneliness — _this _was how it would end. Squatting in the grass and easing the creature out one agonizing centimeter at a time. The whole gruesome event was so uncomfortably macabre it turned Axel's stomach. Roxas leaned heavily into him, screaming, crying, begging him to make it stop. Sweat and tears poured down his beet-red face. The spasms were so powerful that Axel could see them relentlessly crushing the kid's body over and over. All the while, he could only sit there, holding him, whispering, waiting. He could neither ease the pain nor lighten the burden. He had only his presence and a few reassuring words to offer. Never before had he felt so useless.

It was already taking a while, and Axel figured they'd barely scratched the surface of what was in store for them. As he knelt beside his friend, holding his hand and pushing just as hard, Axel listened to him. Roxas was groaning and whimpering incoherently, his mouth moving as if he were trying to speak. His chilling cries pierced like needles into Axel's skin. To him, the boy's pleas were perfectly clear, and he spoke back as if he'd understood every word. He apologized as many times as he could. He showered him with praises. He made even more promises he couldn't keep. He reminded him that he was there and that he wouldn't let him go.

"Mmmh—!"

"I know, man. I know," he cooed softly, brushing the tears off Roxas' cheek with his thumb. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Roxas ate up every word. Having Axel there, so close to him, holding him so tightly, was probably the only thing that made the experience manageable. He clung to the man, his gaunt frame quaking and heaving violently. Axel moved with him, matching his steps like a dance, their faces connected at the forehead and their eyes locked. Their bodies rose and fell in sync with every breath, as if they were joined as one unit. When the spasms came, Axel's hands were quick to reach for him. When he began to panic, Axel's voice was already there to console him. Any time he opened his eyes, Axel's face was the first thing he could see. He was the perfect anchor. It was hard to be afraid with him there.

"You're doing great, Roxas."

"Is it out yet…?"

"Not yet. It'll be over soon, I promise."

Roxas' body went limp in his arms and he fell into a slump to recover, huffing and panting with exhaustion. Axel was speechless. To see such a small kid pull himself through this, to hear the magnitude of the pain, to feel the power of his straining was frightening, but impressive and awe-inspiring at the same time.

"Roxas," he whispered. "I'm so proud of you."

Still breathless, Roxas lifted his eyes, confused. "I haven't done anything yet."

"Sure you have," Axel smiled, drying his face with his sleeve. "You've made it this far."

At the sight of Axel's gleaming eyes, the sound of optimism in his voice, Roxas could feel another emotion flooding through him. It was so strong and so powerful that he knew it was his own. For once, he could feel something other than fear. He was overcome with gratitude — so thankful that Axel was with him, not just in that moment, but always. He was thankful to have Axel as his friend. He cared about him more than anyone else in all the worlds. He could feel that affection deep in his chest. Right then and there, he made a decision. He wasn't going to lose this friendship. He wasn't going to let it all go to waste. He wasn't going to leave Axel behind. He promised Saïx that he would fight, and he was going to fight like hell. _For Axel._

The pain was building up again and he found a new determination, a new motivation. Roxas decided that he was going to live.

* * *

A year and a half. That's how long it's been. I started writing Nobody is Heartless with this very chapter. I had no idea at the time that a full story would ever come out of it - I was just writing the scene because I needed to see it. It was all for me, and I never considered posting back then. But here we are, and I managed to come up with 33 chapters to precede this moment. It's been well worth the wait to finally get to post this chapter. I sat on it for a good couple weeks just to make sure it was perfect, and am so thrilled to finally share it.

The slight lag in my posting schedule will likely continue - I've learned that quarantine is being extended to August in my area. Writing is slow during this time, but it has not stopped! Follow me on twitter and tumblr to see what I'm working on and listen to me scream about stuff. Join my discord server so we can scream together! /ffy5E8G

Peace and love,

Ostelan


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